Perdition
by Kiritsubo
Summary: In a disastrous attempt to reject Hogyoku, Orihime is killed. Distraught by the loss, Ichigo decides to risk it all by undertaking a dangerous journey through heaven and hell to find a way to bring her back.
1. The Broken Pathway

**Disclaimer:**Bleach is the property and creation of Kubo Tite [Kubo Noriaki]. This work does not make any profit and neither does the author claim ownership over publicly recognized characters.

**Warnings:** strong language, violence

**A/N: **A huge thank you to my "guinea pigs" R & T. Readers, I know I'm starting on a very dark note but I assure you that this is going to end IchiHime. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

* * *

_The most hateful of all human griefs is this,_

_to have knowledge of the truth but no power over the event._

* * *

Seireitei was unusually quiet.

The courtyards were empty and the barracks had been shut. Shinou Academy halted examinations and while the school officials claimed it was a temporary postponement, the students weren't deceived. They could no longer pretend everything was right with the world when a war had just concluded in defeat. Few people were seen roaming the streets and nobody seemed to be in the mood to chat. Instead, there was a vast silence, a quiet so still and perfect that it was almost as if nothing in the world could disturb it.

Time had come to a stop.

At least, that was how Ichigo felt as he stood in the quad. He was so absorbed at what was in front of him that he forgot there were hundreds of death-gods standing around, watching and waiting. Once in a while, somebody let out a dry sob before hastily quieting themselves. Bittersweet incense prickled noses as a breeze wafted the heady fumes towards the crowd.

For most of the guests present, this was the fifth burial they had attended within the week.

The war had cost the Goteijusantai two of their captains, leaving the Second and Seventh Divisions without a leader. And before Ichimaru Gin died at the hands of Shinji Hirako, he took down three Vizards with him. While they had long since abandoned their status as shinigami, the Commander-General allowed burials befitting their former stations to take place in Seireitei_._

By the time the service had begun, many could hardly weep, having spent the last seven days shedding innumerable tears. Instead, a dreary gloom cast over them as they privately carried out their lamentations.

Sparing the slightest of glances, Ichigo could see Rukia clamping a hand to her mouth. Renji stood beside her, clasping her in a one-armed embrace and keeping his eyes fixed to the ground.

A polished slab of grey marble served as the bier. Incandescent lilies and purple bellflowers lay around the body as a sweet shroud. Had this been a member of the aristocracy, a glittering series of treasures would have accompanied the dead to their tomb. But the person in question had not a drop of blue blood in her veins. In fact, she was human, and it had been on the Commander-General's orders that she be granted a burial befitting nobility. Instead of the usual cremation, a place had been made for her in one of Seireitei's grand crypts.

What she did to deserve this posthumous honor was known to all and universally regretted.

For the corpse lying in repose was none other than Inoue Orihime.

A host of countless emotions assailed within Ichigo, each one clashing against other like swords engaged in battle. There was so much he didn't understand, so much he couldn't accept.

_Why did you do it? _Bile rose to his lips. _Why didn't you just wait…why'd you run?_

It wasn't until Ishida touched his arm that he woke from his anguished haze. Dreamlike, he walked, following the bier as it was led into the crypt by funerary attendants. Then Rukia, Renji, Ishida, and Sado stepped forward while the rest of the crowd remained outside.

They entered an icy, hermetic chamber in which the interiors had been hewed from alabaster and marble. A fanned nave vaulted the ceiling, creating an illusion that the crypt was more expansive than it really was. At the east end, they stopped and there, the attendants lowered Orihime into her sepulcher.

Ichigo watched them, wishing their movements could be slower. He didn't care if it had already been a week since Orihime died. In the days that followed her death, he had become distant towards everything and everyone. He didn't want to be in any part of it, not even the funerary arrangements, because the idea of locking her up in a box was something he just couldn't stomach.

Rukia had picked out the floral displays. Renji had gone through the tiresome formality of accepting condolences from various officers. Ishida and Sado were the ones who decided Orihime should be interred in Soul Society instead of the living world. While they knew she would have liked to have been near her brother, after a long debate, they agreed that she should remain in Seireitei. Her family—if you could call them that—could have cared less and didn't seem like the type of people who could be bothered with arranging a suitable resting place for their ward.

So, naturally, everything had been left up to her friends to make the decisions.

Once Orihime was laid down, the attendants produced a veil and holding the sheer material by their fingertips, they swept it over her. When that was done, they lifted up a weighty alabaster slab. The sound of stone grating against stone reverberated through Ichigo's entire body, thundering in his ears as he watched Orihime slip away into eternity.

This couldn't be real, it just couldn't be. How was he going to explain to everyone at home what had happened? He felt sick as he imagined Tatsuki's horror-struck face looking back at him.

"Kurosaki-san_._" There was a great deal of sympathy in the lead attendant's voice, not that Ichigo wanted it.

He hated the way people tiptoed around him these days, how they gazed at him with those pitying eyes and spoke those clichéd phrases that were supposedly appropriate for mourning. As if they understood what he had lost or how he was feeling.

"One of you must seal the tomb now." The attendant murmured.

Ichigo stepped back. A large lump had formed in his throat and his eyes were starting to burn. Furiously, he blinked hard, determined not to lose composure when a hand gripped his shoulder.

It was Renji.

"We have to do this." Ishida's voice echoed in the dark.

"Come on." He felt Rukia's fingers enclose over his wrist and pull his hand up.

Five hands stretched out along the cold ledge: pale, dark, and tan. Five pairs of miserable eyes gazed down at Orihime. Five worn out hearts sighed against their chests, saying farewell to the girl whom they had had sworn to bring back. Then one by one, their hands fell away until at last, Ichigo was the only one remaining.

The other four caught each other's gazes and exchanged the tiniest of nods. Long before the funeral, they had unanimously agreed that when the time came to close the tomb, Ichigo must be the one to do it. He was still in denial, that much was clear, and they hoped that this would make him realize the finality of the situation.

They had accepted, most unwillingly, that their friend was gone. There was no doubt that she would be missed but the other four assured themselves that wherever her spirit had went, it must have been gathered into a paradise reserved only for those who had demonstrated nobility and selflessness in their time as a human being.

"Look...she might be gone but you know she's in a better place now." Renji had gruffly said, in a poor attempt to get Ichigo to talk the day before the burial. Unfortunately, he had said the wrong thing.

"You don't know that." Ichigo cut across his feeble words.

Renji didn't get it. Nobody seemed to. Imagining Orihime in heaven wasn't comforting but sickening. She didn't belong there, she was supposed to be _here_. She was supposed to go to school, to concerts, laugh at silly jokes, eat lunch with friends, and do a million other things but now...now...

"Be brave." Rukia whispered. She lightly squeezed his arm then withdrew.

For a long time, Ichigo kept his eyes on the ceiling, watching immobile shadows that cascaded over the nave until at long last, he forced himself to look down.

There was Orihime's lifeless face, surrounded by flowers that were bound to rot and veiled by fabric that would dust in time.

_I should've gotten there in time._

Ichigo bowed his head as guilt collapsed onto his shoulders yet again. He could feel the weight crippling him, forcing his spirit to buckle down.

_I should've stopped you._

His hand clenched over the slab.

_I should've protected you._

Knowing he only had seconds before his courage failed, he grit his teeth and with a heave, he wrenched the slab over. He watched Orihime's face darken as the shaft of light grew narrower and narrower until at last, the lid went down with a resounding thud, sealing her away into a black abyss and along with it, a part of himself.

* * *

_One Week Ago_

* * *

Victory was close.

So close that Aizen could touch it, taste it if that were possible. He was at the threshold and all that was required, to end this unbearable vacancy of Heaven's throne, was one step forward. It had taken him a century of crafted betrayals, mock executions, and a season of terrible battles. How many bodies he had tread over to reach this point was of no importance. They were but a mean to an end, and a brilliant one at that.

In detached amusement, he watched Halibel's body descend, leaving a momentary trail of black blood in her wake. What was left of her clothes fell away in tatters then just before she reached the ground headlong, she began to fade.

South of her position and lying prostrate in rubble, Stark's mangled corpse started to decay and what was left of Barragan crumbled away even further. Soon the air was thick with upon thousands of spirit particles floated to the sky, swirling in a dreamlike cloud of glimmering petals. As if reacting to Aizen, they floated towards him, forming a strange kind of Milky Way.

Smirking at the Goteijunsantai and Vaizards' apparent confusion, he withdrew Hōgyoku from his pocket. The effect was immediate. Like fish to bait, reiatsu circled around the orb, pulled in by its dark gravity.

All around, there were yells of shock and disbelief. Across the imaginary sky, he could hear Kurosaki Ichigo roaring abuses at him and from a glance, he saw Orihime whiten in fear. Ah, that intriguing girl. Without her, his grand scheme would not have been possible and she had played her part well, if unknowingly.

He had been somewhat disappointed that the other seven Espada had been unable to detain Kurosaki and his insignificant companions for a longer period of time. Imprisoning that group and the four captains in Hueco Mundo forever would have been a great convenience.

But, Aizen had to remind himself, he could not have kept them there for that long. So when he saw Kurosaki, the girl, and their company tear out from the sky, he was not surprised that they had found a way to escape the desert world.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Urahara Kisuke. Odd that a man of such talent failed to realize Hōgyoku's true potential. Its usage didn't stop at transforming lowly Arrancar into Espada. Blending the boundary between hollow and shinigami required tremendous force to manipulate reiatsuand this power could be applied to other things. Compressing thousands of spirit particles for instance.

_To create the Key, _Aizen gazed at Hōgyoku. The orb glowed in his hand like a star, growing brighter and hotter as wisps of reiatsucircled it before being absorbed into its crystalline depths.

"Gin, Kaname."

"Heh?" A sly grin spread across Gin's lips, twisting his countenance in jovial malice. "I guess this is goodbye then, eh, taichou?"

"You know what to do."

Gin's smile widened.

"Aizen-sama." Tosen murmured respectfully. His callused fingers crept along his zanpakuto's handle as his whitened eyes glared out into space, tacitly daring any of the Goteijusantaito come near.

Hōgyoku glimmered against Aizen's palm.

"_That—son—of a— bitch!" _Ichigo's arms flexed menacingly and attempted to free themselves from six other limbs that forcefully held him back. Beside him, Rukia was whispering instructions to stay calm.

"Don't be stupid! You can't go out there alone!"

"I don't give a shit!"

"Well _we _do!" Renji snarled from behind, struggling to keep Ichigo still. "You know what he did to you last time. Let Yamamoto-sotaichou handle this one."

"This time isn't like that!" Ichigo bit back.

"Kurosaki, enough!" Ishida snapped at his right. Not yet recovered from a previous battle, his ribs felt like they were on fire. An ugly bruise was swelling into shape on one side of his face and he was sure his left femur was broken. For one so injured, he managed to restrain Ichigo with surprising strength.

"Calm down." Sado cautioned from Ichigo's left in a low, dark voice. "You're still wounded, I can tell. You can't fight Aizen like this."

"Let—go—!" Ichigo panted, fighting in vain against the three.

"Why? So we can watch you get sliced up?" said Ishida as he twisted Ichigo's arm into a half nelson.

As Ichigo continued to wage a losing battle, Orihime remained silent, distancing herself from the group. A chill swept through her and it had nothing to do with the wind. She could see the captains scattered across the celestial plane, all of them wearing identical expressions of alarm.

Something terrible was going on and no one seemed to know how to stop it. Glancing down, she could see Matsumoto and the other vice captains huddled in the streets, still injured from their fights. To her far left, Hirako was clutching Hiyori's mutilated remains to his chest. The other Vaizards looked on in unmasked horror while the rest of the shinigami watched Aizen with wary eyes and bated breath.

All around her were smashed buildings, cracked roads, and fallen power lines. Destruction was rampant, suffering everywhere. And there was blood, so much blood. It was on the captains' haori_, _spilled along the concrete, spattered across Ichigo's face.

Numb, Orihime turned her attention to Hōgyoku glimmering in the palm of Aizen's hand.

_Ulquiorra, you saw this as temporal or spatial regression…but it is neither of those…_

Instinctively, Orihime touched her left hairpin. The cold, prickly edges of the crystal bumped along her fingertips, tangibly reminding her of what powers she still had.

_This is the Rejection of Events. Her ability is to limit, reject, and negate, any kind of event that has happened to her target. It is an ability that that can return anything to its former state no matter what happened to it. That is even better than temporal or spatial regression._

Of course…

Suddenly things looked so much clearer. She remembered. She remembered what she had come into Hueco Mundo for, what she had promised to herself.

_It is a power that trespasses into God's territory._

God's territory…

She clasped her hands as a fresh sense of purpose kindled within her. There was no way of knowing who or what granted her this gift but she knew this much—there had been a reason why _she _had it. She alone had an infallible way of ridding Hōgyoku's existence and it could do far more than a shinigami's bankai could ever achieve. This was her duty and she couldn't afford to back down on it. She had made a mistake—failing to act. .

What had happened between her and Ichigo atop the dome of Las Noches was her fault. She had gone to Hueco Mundo for a number of reasons: to save her friends' lives, to rely less on them and more on herself, to do her part in this war by destroying Hōgyoku_. _Yet all that training, all those covenants she had made to herself had gone to waste.

Because when the time came for her to help Ichigo, when he needed her the most, she broke. She begged him—a dying boy—to help her. And what good had that done?

Pained, Orihime turned to look at Ichigo.

He was still imprisoned in their friends' grasp, yelling something incomprehensible at Renji and Ishida while Rukia bellowed back him, her voice and reason towering over his. If she didn't know any better, Ichigo was acting like his usual hot-tempered self. Of course, she _did _know better. That frightening metamorphosis during his fight with Ulquiorra had damaged him somehow. He was no longer the same person and for that, she was the one to blame.

With a pang of regret, Orihime forced herself to avert her eyes and fix them upon her true goal. It was time to correct her mistake. She had so wanted to make a lasting impression on Ichigo the way Rukia had. Instead, she had left a darker, more sinister mark upon him.

Failure was likely but she had to try.

She owed him that.

"Santen Kesshun_."_

Golden light spilled over Ichigo, Sado, Renji, Ishida, and Rukia. Then before all five could realize what was happening, Orihime was already running.

"Inoue!" shouted Sado.

Rukia whirled around, startled. "_Inoue, no!"_

Distracted, everyone's heads whizzed in Aizen's direction. To their astonishment, they saw a white figure racing towards him, getting dangerously closer and closer. Wind screeched in Orihime's ears as she ran head on, her clothes flapping behind her as she went. Then before someone could act, before anyone could see the white blade fly, she outstretched her arms and reached for Hogyoku, willing every fiber in her being to eradicate this terrible orb that had ruined so many lives.

"_Shoot to kill...Shinsō."_

A spear struck Orihime in the chest once—twice—then exited from her back. Blood spurted from the wound and as a pained cry escaped her lips, the blade removed itself just as quickly as it came. For the briefest moment, her body hung aloft in the air then swiftly, surely, it started to descend.

"INOUE!" Ichigo screamed. The sound seemed to go on forever, ringing in his ears as his rage and horror blistered out from his throat.

Behind him, Rukia and Renji were yelling so hoarsely he could hardly understand what they were saying. Crazed, Ichigo banged his fist against the shield, causing it to crack. At the second hit, it shattered into thousands of scintillating pieces and the moment he looked up, all the air escaped from his lungs.

Gin was holding Orihime by the neck, surveying her with that hateful saccharine smile of his.

"How very foolish." Aizen murmured. His eyes flickered from Hōgyoku to Orihime._ "_What made you think you could contend with me, I wonder."

"Want me to do the honors?" Gin closed his fingers over her neck. A bloody bubble burst near the corner of her mouth then dribbled down her chin. Having suffered impalement, it was amazing that she was still alive. Not for long though.

"Ah." Aizen lowered his gaze to Ichigo and his friends. Even at this distance, he could feel their fury directing towards him like a ray of light. "One more wouldn't hurt."

Grinning, Gin slashed his zanpakuto along Orihime's body, cutting through her chain of fate as he did so.

A million things seemed to happen at once. Captains flew out in all directions, slashing through the clouds to meet Aizen. The remaining Vaizards mustered into a new group then sped towards the last of Aizen's battalion and soon, Ichigo found himself hurtling across the skies.

Feeling her soul crumble and dissolve into mere particles in his hands, Gin cast away the bloodied corpse in contempt. Reiatsu floated around him, twinkling blue then flickering into white as they disappeared within Hōgyoku, now merged with thousands of other lost souls.

"Too late, _Ku-ro-sa-ki chan_." Gin taunted.

In that instant, Ichigo's mind went blank.

All thoughts of saving Karakura Town vanished. A hatred unlike anything he had ever known ripped through him, turning him inside out with rage. Deaf to Rukia's terrified cries and Renji howling at him to stop, he whipped out Zangetsu, having eyes for Gin alone. He shadowed his face with one hand, forgetting he could no longer draw out his mask, that he was too wounded to fight it out. Then again, he felt something like invincibility too.

"_Getsuga_—!"

Gin vanished.

"You'll have to do better than that." Tosen murmured in Ichigo's ear.

In shock, Ichigo looked up. Then before he could maneuver Zangetsu, pain blitzed along his abdomen as Tosen sliced through his midsection with ease. Glaring down at the boy in triumph, he raised his sword for the fatal strike.

"Gotcha!"

Appearing just in the nick of time, Love seized Ichigo by the arm then pulled him onto back in a fireman's lift. Half a second later, Lisa appeared, deftly blocking Tosen's sword.

"Get him out of here!" She barked at Love. She leaned in close, putting all her weight against her sword as it trembled against Tosen's zanpakuto. Her mask flashed in the sunlight as she glared into the unseeing eyes of her formidable adversary.

"No—wait—!" Ichigo choked out.

"Leave it, man! It's too dangerous right now!" Love shouted as he and Ichigo made a quick getaway, descending further down. Already, the figures of Lisa and Tosen fighting became no more than pinpricks in a vast canvas of blue.

The sky darkened.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and a powerful, overwhelming surge of reiatsuerupted from all corners of the replicate dimension. Lightning flashed and suddenly, searing hot flames lit the heavens. They roared into life, twisting and lashing out towards Aizen like serpents hell-bent on devouring its prey.

As soon as they hit ground, Love forced Ichigo down, shielding his body from falling debris.

"Inoue—where's Inoue? Where is she?"

"Somebody got her, I saw them!" Love bellowed, shutting his eyes when a building nearby collapsed into ruins. Ash and smoke flew up in the air.

A cacophony of cries and screams rose up, clamoring against the deafening explosions that were taking place above. The indigo in the sky had vanished. Flaming embers tumbled out of the heavens and haphazardly landed on a street here, an edifice there. They burst into a blaze, scorching everything in their path.

Then Ichigo heard someone screamed.

He sat up, gasping for breath. Wildly, he looked around for the source of the cry, recognizing the voice at once.

"RUKIA!"

"Get down, get down!" Love tackled Ichigo to the ground as chunks of metal ricocheted around them. Windows of a blackened house shattered, sending down a torrent of broken glass. Ichigo writhed, feeling blood sluggishly pool out of him. He tried to breathe but inhaled nothing but hot, ashen air. Where was all this heat coming from?

"Stay down!" Love yelled in his ear.

"_I have to find her!_" Ichigo roared. With a great heave, he pushed Love off. Not heeding the Vaizard hollering after him, he scrambled to get up, picked Zangetsufrom the ground then leapt forward, landing atop a structure. He started to sprint when he staggered and fell to his knees.

He doubled over as pain spread to his lower back and thighs. His stomach felt so raw, twisted, and torn. Quelling his nausea, he spat out blood and forced himself to stand before setting off again. He shouted out Rukia's name over and over, straining his ears to hear her call back.

It wasn't long until he found her, and she wasn't alone.

Ishida was with her, huddled in some corner of a nameless street. Sado and Renji were nowhere to be seen, presumably still fighting with the rest above. Their faces were smudged with ash but underneath the grey stains, they looked stark white as they bent over what Rukia held in her arms.

Ichigo froze, mortified into silence. He didn't dare move or even speak. In his line of sight, he could see Orihime lying quite still against Rukia. A long, vertical gash ran along her torso to her hip and when he looked into her face, he didn't recognize it. How could he, when she looked so different with those lifeless eyes that blankly stared into space?

"We tried everything." Rukia gasped out, jolting Ichigo back to reality. "I can't…I can't feel her pulse. It's gone." She breathed out the last two words in disbelief. "It's gone."

The ground seemed to slip beneath Ichigo's feet. Feeling nauseous, his eyes swiveled over to Rukia then Ishida.

"She isn't breathing." Ishida said in a strangled voice. He looked so pale it was as if all the blood had drained away from his face. He was not calm, he was not collected. The shock had obliterated all that.

"What're you…_what do you mean she's not breathing?_"

Then before Rukia and Ishida could stop him, he raced over then pried Orihime away, gathering her into him.

"Ino…Inoue?" He shook her as if to wake her but her head merely flopped to the side. Her hair tangled around his forearm and one of her hairpins was askew, threatening to fall out. He ran his hands over her face, her bruised neck, the gaping hole at her chest. At the sight of her injury, he felt winded, like someone had sunk a fist into his abdomen.

"Come on, don't do this Inoue!" He shook her harder. "Inoue!"

"Ichigo…" Rukia whispered but Ichigo didn't hear her.

Reason had abandoned him a long time ago.

"Inoue! Come on, Inoue!" He set her down again on the sidewalk.

Tasting copper on his tongue, he twisted to the side and spat. Roughly, he tilted Orihime's head back, pinched her nose then covered his mouth with hers, breathing hot air in. His mind was reeling out of control. An incoherent stream of thoughts and pictures rushed through his head. Orihime falling, Gin's sword winking and flashing in the sunlight, Tosen's arm poised in the air. Across the truncated memories, his father's voice boomed out, reminding him what to do.

_Two breaths, each one lasting a second. Got that, son? One second each! If you don't see the chest moving, start compressions._

Clasping his hands together, Ichigo pressed them onto Orihime's chest, not realizing that she was beyond his help.

_One hundred beats per minute. Remember that Ichigo, remember that._

He pushed harder, never stopping, furiously waiting for Orihime to breathe. This had to work, it just had to. He winced, struggling to ignore his own grievous injury. The lower half of his body was all but screaming at him for rest. When the count got to thirty, he bent down and pressed his lips against her icy ones. Rising, he restarted his compressions when Ishida grabbed his arm.

"Stop it, Kurosaki."

Ichigo ignored him. Flinging Ishida's hand aside, he pressed down again.

"That's enough." He heard Rukia say but he continued to work on Orihime anyway.

She was going to wake up—she wasn't going to die—not yet—not ever—she was going to wake up now—any second—Unohana_-_taichou would help—Hanataro too—she was going to be fine—she was going to be safe—she was going to live.

"Stop."

"_Shut up Ishida."_

"She's dead!" Ishida flung the words out. "You can't save her!"

"SHUT UP!" Ichigo yelled. "JUST SHUT UP!"

Then without warning, Ishida shoved him. Throwing his limbs around Ichigo's shoulders, he forced Ichigo to back away.

"You've done enough!"

"_You fucking b—_!"

"There's nothing you can do!" Ishida shouted as Ichigo viciously fought to be released.

"_She's—just let me—I can fix this—_!"

"It's no use."

"_No!_"

"She's gone, Kurosaki…she's gone."


	2. A Denied Request

There came a time when everything seemed dull and pointless.

The reality that he had to go back to school had not settled with Ichigo. It was hard, after all that had happened, to realize he had family and friends waiting for him back in the living world. Instead, he spent another unsolicited week in Seireitei, staying at the Thirteenth Division's barracks which Ukitake had kindly provided for him. Ishida and Sado, unwilling to leave Ichigo by himself, opted to delay their return to Karakura Town as well.

Had he any desire to talk, Ichigo would have spared them the trouble by telling them he didn't need their presence.

He didn't know why he didn't want to go back home.

He tried lying to himself, thinking he wanted to wait until his injuries had fully healed but Unohana-taichou had released him from bedrest ages ago. What was the point in deception? He knew damn well why he couldn't leave. Orihime was buried here, in Seireitei. If he left, it would be tantamount to abandonment and that was something he couldn't, _wouldn't,_do.

So he lingered on, suspended in depression while straying between the line of returning to the mortal realm and remaining in Soul Society. He had to make decision yet he continued to put it off. Whenever Ishida or Renji approached the subject of going back, he simply looked the other way and said nothing.

For the the first time in decades, Ukitake had a spare shinigami and due to the novelty of the situation, he was unsure as to how to handle Ichigo. Occasionally, he gave him minimal duties in an attempt to take his mind off things and this seemed to work for a while until the captain started to notice the symptoms of a disturbing malady manifesting itself on the boy in the form of an obsession.

Lately, Ichigo developed a newfound craving for reports.

For days on end, he wandered about the barracks, impatiently waiting for news of recent soul-burials. He pored over reports and frequently consulted with Sentaro whenever a hell butterfly arrived with a message. He would dash off to various locations: the West Rukongai, another remote district, along Seireitei's main gate. There were times when he was so convinced Orihime had been found in Inuzuri, he ran off before anyone could stop him then came back hours later, looking bitterly disappointed.

A few times, Renji tried to knock sense into Ichigo's head by having a heart-to-heart but gave up when he realized Ichigo just wasn't in the mood for one.

"It's like talking to a rock!" He had heard Renji complain to Rukia.

Only Sado seemed to understand that words weren't going to help.

Occasionally, he would join Ichigo in one of his midnight wanderings around Seireitei and walk with him in companionable silence. They said very little during those late sojourns but Ichigo was grateful for Sado not badgering him to open up. Sometimes, Rukia joined them and whenever she did, she was always the last one to leave. When she turned to go home, her blue eyes would linger after Ichigo's face, looking sadly puzzled as to what was happening to him.

He wished she wouldn't look at him like that. He wanted to tell her he was fine and he did several times, but he knew she didn't believe him.

_Inoue's dead._

The thought was as cold and rigid as a winter icicle, waking Ichigo with its chilling clarity. He lied prostrate on his mat and stared at the ceiling, helplessly waiting for sleep to carry him away. Not far from where he was, he could hear Sentaro snoring. He tried closing his eyes.

In an instant, he regretted it.

With terrible precision, he could see Gin and his robes billowing in the wind. They were back in the replicate dimension again, a chaos in which law and order had abandoned forever. His ears stung as Gin taunted him, holding up Orihime's broken body. Her skirt fluttered beside them, flapping between white from the fabric and red from blood.

"Too late, _Ku-ro-sa-ki-chan_!"

Ichigo sat up, breathing hard.

By the time he calmed down and remembered where he was, it was already three in the morning. It wouldn't be long before dawn. He stared down at his knees then slowly, he brushed off his blankets and stood up.

Throwing on a robe and taking Zangetsu with him, he stepped out of the barracks. Careful to slide the door shut, he slipped into his sandals and started walking. He didn't care if it was the middle of the night or that the person he was seeking was far off on the outskirts of Soul Society.

Because, as far as he was concerned, that person owed him and it didn't matter if tonight wasn't the right time to answer questions.

He would get them, and he would get them now.

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_._oO*Oo.

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Urahara Kisuke was a complex man who loved to build complex things.

No two people ever held the same opinion about him. He was a genius or a quack depending on who you asked. He was brilliant to one, exceedingly stupid to another. Few remembered him as a generally kind person. Others preferred to think he was indecent, caring nothing for the consequences of others. But there was one thing everyone could agree on: the man had an uncanny way for figuring out loopholes in any deadlocked situation. No matter what happened, people reassured themselves, he would always find a way to make the circumstances less dire.

Urahara clopped his way through the tall grass, getting his clogs wet with morning dew. Twenty feet away from him was the decrepit Shiba manor with its ridiculous ornamental arms raising their iron fists to the sky.

In a rare display of magnanimity, Yamamoto had allowed him an unmolested stay in Seireitei for a month to recuperate from the war. It had been a century since he last stepped foot anywhere near Soul Society. The reiatsu_-_enriched wind felt wonderful, enveloping him with a sense of calm and order that did not exist in the living world.

He breathed out a sigh and vaguely thought of Kukaku, reminding himself to thank her for letting him to stay at her home. As a further extension of her courtesy, Kukaku had Ganju unceremoniously kicked out of his room so Yoruichi could stay there instead. He now slept in the basement with Urahara all the while grumbling how his elder sister was a bitch.

He brushed his cane through the vegetation, letting his mind wander to the day he and Soul Society had lost to Aizen.

In the back of his mind, he had always known that Hogyoku could be used for something greater but he—yet again—underestimated Aizen. He had thought the former Fifth Division captain wouldn't dare use it without risking the Orb's destruction. But somehow, the son-of-a-bitch had overcome that.

It was a battle that he would never forget. He, as so few people lived to tell, had witnessed the Commander-General's bankai firsthand. He had personally fought with Aizen and had the misfortune to see him holding a newly forged Royal Key in his hands.

"You're walking to your destruction!" Urahara had shouted as the replicate dimension faded in blinding white light when Aizen unlocked the heavens.

"No." He heard Aizen say. "I walk to immortality."

Then everything disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Urahara pulled down the brim of his hat over his brow, feeling a deep uneasiness well inside of him. The Commander-General had told the remaining Goteijusantai and the Vaizards that although they had failed to stop Aizen, there was still the Royal Guard. The Zero Squad, Yamamoto had reminded them, had never suffered defeat.

But, Urahara wanted to point out at the time, the Zero Squad never had contended with a shinigami who had managed to steal the Royal Key and successfully enter the Heavenly Realm.

All anyone could do now was wait and hope that the Royal Guard, their last line of defense, would not fall.

Throwing one last look at the grey morning, he turned around to return to the Shiba manor when he sensed someone near him. His heart sank, recognizing the reiatsu signature.

"I know why you're here." Urahara wearily glanced to his left.

As expected, there was Kurosaki, awkwardly standing in the middle of the clearing. For one so young, he had the look of an old man who had seen and experienced far too much. Grief had left its mark on him. They did not say anything for a long time, neither wanting to be the one to start this conversation that had long been deferred.

At last, Ichigo relented. "I want…"

"To know if Orihime's soul will find a way back to Soul Society?" Urahara finished for him.

For once, Ichigo was surprised. He could feel his determined front crumble as he stared into Urahara's knowing eyes. It was pointless to hide stuff from this guy, wasn't it?

"So you know what I've been doing."

"Ukitake told me you've been looking for her in the Rukongai." He heard Urahara explain.

There was a pause.

"I've looked everywhere." Ichigo said, suddenly feeling exhausted. "I don't get this. I don't get why she isn't here yet."

Urahara tightened the hold on his cane as he weighed his current options. Was it better to let the boy take comfort in a lie or suffer with the truth? Feeling a deep strain of sympathy, he picked the former even though he knew it was the wrong choice.

"She'll come eventually. You just have to wait." He answered, betraying the slightest of hesitations. Unfortunately, Ichigo caught it.

"You're lying." His eyes hardened in anger.

Urahara's lips thinned into a single line.

"I don't believe you." Ichigo glared at him. He clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to tackle Urahara to the ground. "You know something, don't you? You know why I can't find Inoue." There was an unmistakable note of challenge in his voice.

Urahara shifted his gaze to the horizon, watching the last of the stars fade. A rosy streak emerged in the distance, announcing the sun's ascension. After a long while, he spoke, and when he did, he addressed himself to the heavens as though it were some sort of priest listening to his confession.

"I never intended Hogyoku to be used to create the Royal Key." He coldly stated to the thin spreads of cloud. "I was just as surprised as any of you when Aizen used it for that. From what I could tell, he had Hogyoku compress decomposed spirit particles to make the Key. According to the Commander-General, once the Royal Key is used, it dissolves away and all the souls that composed it are freed."

Here, Urahara stopped and looked to see how Ichigo was taking the news. So far, he seemed calm. That wouldn't last long.

"Souls go through numerous cycles before they can enter the Heavenly Realm. When that happens, they just get reborn into the real world to begin their next life. But there are also souls that are so mutilated that they can't undergo reincarnation so they're sent to Hell instead. They are in the same dimensions, yes, but wholly different in nature."

"I don't understand." Ichigo began but Urahara held up his hand to stem the oncoming questions.

"When Inoue-san died—"

Ichigo flinched.

"—her chain of fate didn't just break. Her soul itself got crushed to pieces then absorbed by Hogyoku. Shattered beyond repair." Urahara felt his heart ice over with regret. "When a soul is marred like that, there's only one place it can go."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"No." But even as he said this, Ichigo's voice trembled.

When Urahara failed to answer, he vehemently shook his head as childhood stories and depictions of hell sprang up in his mind. Fire. Total darkness. A host of demonic creatures too terrible to imagine. This had to be a mistake. How could someone like Orihime be condemned to a place like that? It was insurmountably wrong on so many different levels that Ichigo didn't know where to begin.

"You're a shinigami, Kurosaki. You should know by now that all things have their rightful place in the world."

"'_Rightful place_'?"Ichigo repeated in vehemence. Drawing himself up and gathering the last of his hopes into him, he asked, "So what now? What do we do? There's got to be some way to help her."

"There isn't."

It was astounding how two words could make Ichigo feel as though he had been sliced open with a knife.

"You can't go where she is." Urahara said in a gentle voice as he laid Ichigo low.

A terrible panic rose within Ichigo, spinning his head into a whirlwind of thoughts that were too incomprehensible to articulate. Struggling to stay calm, he entreated to Urahara again. "You made a gateway to Seireitei and Hueco Mundo. Why can't you make one for Hell?"

"I can't manufacture something like that."

"Why not?" Ichigo furiously demanded.

"The ways to Heaven and Hell are things beyond my power to control, let alone create."

"You're the one who made Hogyoku." Ichigo spat. "Everybody said combining shinigami and hollow powers were impossible but you managed to do it! You helped me get back mypowers! You saved all the Vaizards from becoming hollows! You did all that and you're telling me you can't even figure something out for this?"

"I'm not God." Urahara said quietly.

"Well you sure as hell acted like one."

Urahara gave no response. In fact, from the way he stood, it was almost as if he had been expecting the insult.

"There has to be a way." For Urahara not to have a ready solution had been a great blow but it was just a setback Ichigo believed he could overcome. Surely there was another alternative.

"There isn't. Not unless you convince the Commander-General to hand over Seireitei's Royal Key and the chances of that happening are slim to none ."

"And what if I can?" Ichigo challenged.

"He won't give it to you." Urahara regarded him in doubt. "Why do you think Aizen had to create a Royal Key for himself in the first place? Even _he_ didn't want to contend with Yamamoto."

"Don't compare me with that scum."

"I wasn't."

But Ichigo wasn't listening anymore. Instead, he turned around and started walking the way he came. His black robes swept around his feet as he glided through the grass, traveling to his new destination with a cold sense of purpose. The sun's peak slipped up from the mountains and an instant, the skies turned gold.

"Kurosaki." Urahara called but he received no answer and before he could walk over to him, Ichigo vanished.

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.oO*Oo.

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"All of you understand then?" Yamamoto stood on the plinth and looked down at the double lines of captains and their lieutenants.

Black draperies hung from the rafters and vases of chrysanthemums were set around the gallery as formal signs of mourning. Although the Meeting Hall was bright and polished as ever, there seemed to be subdued and listless air about it. The commanding atmosphere it had once had was gone and one couldn't help but wonder if it could be regained ever again.

"Yes," came the unanimous reply.

Yamamoto grimly nodded. "Then, for vice-captains who are chosen, prepare for your proficiency tests by winter's end. Whichever one of you succeeds will be promoted. We may have lost half our number in the war but I will not let the Goteijusantai remain incomplete for long."

Rukia dared to steal a glance at Byakuya to see how he was taking the news. Unsurprisingly, he looked quite impassive but she wondered whether the prospect of losing his lieutenant bothered him. Renji, after all, had served him the longest in the Sixth Squad and was one of the few people who had earned his respect. It would be hard to find a worthy replacement if Renji was nominated for a chance at captaincy.

She let her eyes roam about the hall, as this was her first time visiting it. It was only by Byakuya's insistence that she be present and she knew why. Today, Byakuya was going to let Ukitake grant her a seat on the Thirteenth Squad. Although Byakuya never indicated this to be the reason, she hoped her performance in Hueco Mundo had finally shown her hard-to-please brother-in-law that she could hold her weight as a shinigami.

During the announcement, the vice-captains were markedly quiet. None of them seemed surprised but neither were they particularly eager.

Rukia understood.

To be elevated into a position where a fallen captain had once been was like stepping into shoes that somebody had already worn and left holes in. Attaining captaincy had always been considered a great honor but nowadays it had become more or less of a burden. The proficiency tests alone were backbreaking and if someone was lucky to pass them, a mountain of administrative and executive work awaited them. New seats had to be picked out, communication between each divisions had to be constantly checked then everything in between had to be restructured in some way.

It was a job that no one seemed happy to take and for good reason.

Nonetheless, it would have been shameful, particularly for the divisions without a captain, for the vice-captains to not step up and take the reins.

Matsumoto hid her lack of enthusiasm by lowering her eyes to the floor and Yumichika followed suit. Since Madarame died, the Eleventh Squad's captain forcibly bumped up Yumichika to the fourth rank despite the latter's vehement protests. Then, as a sign of respect, Zaraki forbade anyone else from taking Madarame's number, declaring he would always remain the division's third seat. Even in death.

Yamamoto peered after an official scribe who approached him from his left. Bowing her head, the scribe then settled at the Commander-General's side. A writing table and the necessary supplies had been provided for her and once she had seated herself, she drew up a calligraphy brush.

"Captains, you may formally offer your lieutenants to take the taishu_._ Or, if any of you prefer to write recommendations, I will need at least six for each candidate to be considered qualified. For the divisions that lack a captain—" Yamamoto glanced at the noticeable gaps in the lines "—you may step forward and offer yourselves instead."

A dull silence followed this statement, punctuated by the light crinkles of parchment being moved as the scribe swept the ink along characters.

Yamamoto turned his wizened face to the right, where his vice captain stood.

"I, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, captain of the First Squad and Commander of the Goteijusantai_,_ nominate Sasakibe Chōjirō for captaincy of Second Division."

Obediently, Chōjirō moved up, standing proud and erect.

Next came the Second Division.

"I…Ōmaeda Marechiyo…nominate…myself…for…for captaincy of Second Division also." Ōmaeda recited in a wavering voice. With enormous effort, he quelled back his tears then took one step forward, replacing the empty spot where Soifon would have stood had she been alive.

"I, Izuru Kira, nominate myself for captaincy of Third Division." Kira stepped up, finally rising to the place where Ichimaru Gin had been.

When it was to Unohana's turn to offer someone, she bowed her head and said nothing, much to Isane's relief. Her worst fear had been Unohana nominating her for the Fifth Division, which everyone now regarded as cursed since many of its former captains had something terrible befall them. Even Hinamori, the Fifth Division's own lieutenant, had refused to offer herself.

So it came as a bit of a shock when Byakuya spoke. "I, Kuchiki Byakuya, captain of the Sixth Squad, nominate Abarai Renji for captaincy of Fifth Division."

Rukia gazed at her brother-in-law in disbelief. Had she heard him right? He was actually _willing_ to let Renji go? And it wasn't just that. Byakuya had nominated Renji for a division known for its bad reputation and horrible luck. Speechless, she looked back at Renji for an explanation but he too seemed at a loss for words. The promotion was as sudden and unexpected for him as it had been for her.

"Step forward, Abarai-fukutaichou." Yamamoto grumbled, knotting his wrinkled hands together over his cane.

"Of…of course…" Renji stuttered. "My apologies, Yamamoto-sotaichou." Biting down on his lip, he reluctantly stepped away from Byakuya then took Aizen's former position in the hall.

"I, Iba Tetsuzaemon, nominate myself for captaincy of Seventh Division." Iba said in a barely inaudible voice so unlike his usual energetic one. He, like Ōmaeda, was still coping with his captain's recent death and out of respect for Komamaru-taichou, he had taken off his sunglasses and had combed his hair into a more conservative style.

Yamamoto nodded then glanced at Kyoraku.

"Eh, sorry to burst your bubble, Yama-jii," Kyoraku shrugged, "but I'd like Nanao-chan to stay with me. There aren't too many pretty vice-captains out there, you know."

Naturally, Nanao blushed then mumbled something incomprehensible to which Kyoraku smiled.

"Enough." Yamamoto interposed in a stern voice. "You take this matter too lightly for my liking, Shunsui." He then turned to Hisagi, the Ninth Division's lieutenant.

"I, Hisagi Shuhei," Hisagi muttered as he took his place, "nominate myself for captaincy of Ninth Division."

At Hitsugaya's turn, he promptly declined, earning a grateful look from Matsumoto. Similarly, Zaraki and Mayuri also refused to offer up any of their lieutenants.

"That leaves you, Jushiro." Yamamoto nodded towards the Thirteenth Division's captain.

"Yes, about that…" Ukitake seemed puzzled. "…I, er, don't have a lieutenant to give." He exchanged the most fleeting of looks with Byakuya who responded with a tiny nod. "But I'd like to use this occasion to formally seat Kuchiki Rukia to fourth rank. I've cleared it with the head of the Kuchiki clan."

"Very well." Yamamoto approved. "Do you accept your position, Kuchiki Rukia?"

"Ye—"

Suddenly, there came a shout followed by a series of loud thuds and swearing.

Everyone's head turned to the main doors, alarmed. Several of the vice-captains, particularly Ōmaeda, looked scandalized. The Meeting Hall was one of the most heavily guarded places in Seireitei and all the low-ranking officials knew well to stay away from the area if they were not authorized to be there. So what exactly was going on outside?

"Please-you're not allowed to go inside—" Someone could be heard, pleading.

"_Drop your weapon now_!" Another demanded.

"You don't have access here! Desist immediately!"

"_We're warning you_!"

Yamamoto cracked open his eyes, seriously displeased by the interruption.

"Who—what the—?" Ōmaeda sputtered.

The double doors flew open with a bang.

Light spilled into the hallway, shadowing everyone's shocked faces as they watched a tall boy with a generous head of orange hair storm his way into the gallery with his sword drawn out. Not far from him was a trail of groaning, defeated guards with their shattered swords lying beside them.

"Kuro…Kurosaki Ichigo?" Ōmaeda looked stunned and he wasn't the only one.

Matsumoto had put a hand up to her mouth to keep from shouting in surprise while Yumichika simply stared. Rukia and Renji gaped after Ichigo as though he had gone completely insane. Perhaps he had.

"Ichigo." Rukia breathed. "What are you…what are you doing here?"

But he strode past her without a word. He continued to walk his way up, emanating recklessness and defiance from every pore on his body.

"Ichigo, what the hell!" Renji demanded once the initial shock had worn off. He started to advance forward when Ichigo flung out an arm to stop him.

"This doesn't concern you."

"Ichigo!"

"_Back off, Renji._"

Dismissing everyone's highly disapproving looks and mutterings, Ichigo focused on Yamamoto, pretending that they were the only two people in the hall.

"I'm sorry for the interruption but this couldn't wait." Ichigo leveled his gaze with the Commander-General. "I didn't come here to fight you so I'll just get to the point. I need something. Something only you can give." He paused then the words just tumbled out of his mouth. "I need you to tell me where the Royal Key is."

Instantly, the hall went into an uproar.

"How_ dare_ you show such disrespect!" Chōjirō brought out his sword in anger.

"_Ridiculous!_" whispered Yumichika.

"Have you lost your mind?" Renji shouted, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"There—there's—THERE'S NO WAY YAMAMOTO-SOTAICHOU'LL DO THAT!" Ōmaeda burst out, apoplectic with rage. Wildly, he turned to see Yamamoto looking undisturbed as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

Undeterred, Ichigo continued. "I don't want it to overthrow the King, I don't. I need it to get me into Hell so I can get Inoue out of there. I talked to Urahara. He…" his voice broke. "...he said that's where she is now...because of what happened in Karakura Town.

"Please." Ichigo looked into the Commander's unreadable face. "Please, I'm asking you, give me the Royal Key so I can find and save her."

A profound silence descended upon everyone standing in the hall.

"You selfish, impulsive boy." Yamamoto growled beneath his braided beard. The deepest of frowns appeared upon his countenance. "You expect me to hand over the very thing to which I'm honor-bound to protect?"

Ichigo stepped forward with Zangetsu in hand.

"_Inoue doesn't belong there_." He spoke through clenched teeth.

"That is not up to you to decide." Yamamoto countered. "That girl's death was regrettable, I have no doubt in that. But even she must have known the outcome of doing something as dangerous as confronting Aizen."

"She tried to save your life!" Ichigo shouted, goaded past his endurance point. "And yours!" He whirled around to the Goteijusantai and their lieutenants. "All of yours! And mine! She doesn't _deserve_ to be in Hell for eternity!"

"And neither do the thousands of others deserve to suffer the consequences of your reckless actions were I to surrender the Royal Key to you." Yamamoto thundered back. He looked up and to his satisfaction, reinforcements had arrived. A fresh supply of guards filtered into the Meeting Hall and advanced towards Ichigo with their swords drawn.

"You were foolish to come here and make such a request of me." Yamamoto gestured to Byakuya and Zaraki to close in on the boy.

"You don't understand!"

"No." Yamamoto surveyed him with cold sympathy. "It is _you_ who does not understand. You are young, Kurosaki, too young to realize that law and order cannot be compromised for personal desire. Even though you are a shinigami, you have yet to grasp that truth."

"But I can't just leave her in a place like that!" Ichigo was suddenly desperate. He looked around as though searching for someone to back him up but no one did. All he got was a sea of faces staring back at him and none seemed willing to step forward.

"Enough of this." Yamamoto hardened his gaze. "I will not deny that the services you and your friends provided for Soul Society have been invaluable. But your habit of disobeying orders has been a constant source of irritation to me. And now..." he shut his eyes "...you've overreached my tolerance."

"_Please_." Ichigo begged. "I need that Key."

"Kurosaki Ichigo." Yamamoto's voice rumbled in the hall. "Effective immediately, I relieve you of your duties as deputy shinigami for Karakura Town—"

"—Yamamoto-sotaichou!" Renji protested but it was all in vain. Yamamoto went on as though he had not been interrupted.

"—henceforth, you are to return to the living world as soon as a Senkai Gate can be opened for you and your friends Ishida Uryu and Sado Yasutora."

"No!" Ichigo bellowed when a pair of burly sentinels seized him by the arms. Another shinigami forcibly wrestled Zangetsu from him and disappeared in the growing crowd of black robes and white haori.

"Get out of the way!" Renji tried to shove his way through but it was impossible with Zaraki, Byakuya, and the guards encircling Ichigo.

Rukia watched on in horror. Distressed, she looked towards her brother-in-law for help but was shot down by his steely countenance. Realization jolted her. This wasn't going to be like last time. He was not going to provide a helping hand like he did for her and Renji when they went to Hueco Mundo to retrieve Orihime.

They were on their own now.

"_No—you_—_you can't do this_!" Ichigo yelled as he was pulled away. Tearing himself from the guards, he managed to wrench his right arm free when he felt a crashing pain against the back of his knees. Staggering, he fell to the floor.

"Remove him from our sight." Byakuya imperiously ordered.

"I can't just leave! _Don't you get it?_ I can't go back! I can't go back home without her!"

"Never again," Yamamoto towered over Ichigo, "will you enter Soul Society until the day you perish in the mortal realm."

"PLEASE!" Ichigo yelled as he was dragged across the gallery by a swarm of guards. "I—_HAVE_—TO—SAVE—_INOUE!_"

He screamed the name so loudly that it echoed against the hall and struck a deep chord within all who heard it. Then in the same brusque manner as he appeared, he vanished through the double doors.

"_Che_." Zaraki turned away in disdain as Ichigo's strangled cries reverberated throughout the Meeting Hall. "Kid's gone crazy."

"No." Ukitake pityingly gazed after the entrance where Ichigo had gone. "He's in pain."


	3. Intercession

"_He must be here…he must be somewhere…someone must have him…"_

"…_all Minako's fault! How was I supposed to know she had the gun…"_

"…_wait till I get my hands on that bastard…"_

"…_hallowed be thy name…thy kingdom come, thy will be done…"_

Voices hissed, creating a babbling wind of jumbled curses, frantic prayers, and musings. Grey shadows wandered along the colorless gallery with no destination or purpose in mind; their eyes stared blankly into the mist as their insubstantial feet glided along the dusty floor. There were no walls but rows of obsidian pillars that seemed to support a ceiling of darkness.

Orihime pressed her back against one of the columns, shivering in fright. Whenever a ghost walked past her, she shrank, not wanting to be seen. For the third time, she looked down at her hands. The flesh was transparent, too transparent for a soul that had recently died. But when she pinched her finger, she felt a prick of pain, briefly reassuring her that she could still feel. Looking down, she fingered the weighty stamp of metal on her chest and the corroded chain.

_One more time, just try it one more time…_Orihime closed her eyes, forcing herself to remember.

She had been running. She had broken away from the safety of her friends to pull off a ridiculous, almost laughable, and dangerous move against Aizen. Then pain, indescribable pain, as she watched her own blood scatter across the sky.

Reminded of her failure, her eyes snapped open and she clapped a hand to her mouth to suppress a scream.

Everything had gone so awfully, horribly wrong.

Why was she even here?

"What is this place?" She whispered as she looked around her dreary surroundings.

"You!" A hand shot out of the dark and clasped itself onto Orihime's shoulder, forcing her to turn and look into the disheveled face of a woman. Her grey countenance was haggard and bent as though she had suffered many years in misery.

"Have you seen my baby?" The woman dementedly stared.

"N…no." Orihime stammered, attempting to pull her shoulder away but the woman held her fast.

"You must have seen him. He's five. He's got brown hair, like mine, see?" The woman fisted her colorless strands and shook them at the mortified girl. "And blue eyes, the sweetest blue eyes you'd ever seen. I took him to the park to play on the swings then I went to go get our lunch from the car…"

The woman let Orihime go as she sank deeper into her grief.

"I was only away for two minutes." She moaned. "Only two minutes. Then he was gone…gone…my little boy…gone…"

"I'm sorry." Orihime trembled.

The woman's eyes narrowed into slits. "Did you take him?"

"Wha—what?"

"Did you take my son?" The mother demanded. "Did you? You did, you did! I can see it in your face!" Her arms reached out as though she was about to attack. "Give me back my baby!"

Startled, Orihime whirled around and ran from the deranged woman before the spirit could gather its wits to come after her. Unfortunately she did not get far before another ghost, far more disturbed than the first, stopped her.

"You worthless cunt!" A gaunt-faced man shouted when he and Orihime locked eyes with one another. Then before she could move or say anything in return, he seized her by the shoulders and started to shake her as hard as he could. "You little piece of shit! Where is it, huh? Where?"

"Stop!" Orihime begged, desperately trying to free herself. Her hair bounced away from her face and flew in all directions from the frenetic movement. "Please let me go!"

"Where's the money?" The man screamed. "I know you took it, Setsuko! You can't hide anything from me!"

"I'm not Setsuko!" Orihime wrenched away from him but the man lunged for her arm and tore off the remaining sleeve of her white gown. Crazed with anger, he seized her hair then forced her down to the unforgiving floor.

"_Give me my money!_"

"Let me go!" Orihime cried only to be struck in the face. Helpless, she lifted up her hands to protect herself from the heavy blows that rained down on her. The enraged ghost relentlessly punched and kicked whatever vulnerable spot he found, all the while shrieking at her for the nonexistent money.

_This can't be happening,_ Orihime thought as she lay in senseless pain. When the ghost jabbed a fist across her face, she felt her lip crack then just as his hand rose for another blow, someone spoke:

"Have you seen him? My baby, have you seen him?"

Orihime froze, recognizing the familiar refrain. She looked up and to her astonishment she saw the spirit of the sorrowed mother that she had left behind just moments before. The man too, seemed taken aback by this unexpected appearance then turned away from Orihime to confront his next victim.

"Your boy is it? You've lost him, have you?" He sneered. "Well who gives a flying fuck about that? Where's my money?"

"Lost! Yes, my son is lost! He's been for ten years." The mother wailed, tormented by this harsh reminder of her bereavement.

"Shut up, shut up, just shut the fuck up!" A new voice howled in the dark. The mother and the man twisted their necks to the side to see a skeletally thin man with stringy hair emerge from the shadows.

"Why won't you shut up?" The man demanded. His eyes had sunken into a face waxed and blurred by malnourishment. He clutched at his rags and the black band that was tied to his bare arm. A grey vein pulsed out from the paper thin skin and under the crook of his elbow were a collection of pinprick bruises.

"Stay quiet…for the love of God, be quiet or I'll rip you all into pieces." The drug addict dug his hands through his hair and screwed up his face as though something was hurting him.

"I'd like to see you try." The other male ghost contemptuously replied.

"Ha! Looking for a fight?" Another spirit jeered. His bulky form slinked out from a nearby pillar and when the dim light cast itself over his countenance, there was nothing there but wild, savage bloodlust.

"Just—shut—up!" The addict screamed. Provoked, he lunged towards the other ghosts.

Seizing her chance to get away, Orihime scrambled up from the dust and fled.

She raced down the hall, passing by column after column with the mist flying in her face. Her hair whipped back behind her as she sped into the dark, icy terror flooding into her head, washing out all thought and leaving behind only instinct. Many times, she heard piteous moans and hairsplitting screams but she did not look back to investigate.

Her severed chain bounced against her chest, echoing the beats of a heart and drumming into her a truth she did not want to be reminded of. That she was dead, that there was no one to help her, her friends were nowhere to be seen. Her cheek throbbed as it swelled and darkened.

She forced herself to go further and didn't stop until she was sure she had reached what had to be the end of the grey hall.

The moment she stepped outside, she regretted it.

An inky dark sky met her frightened gaze. There was no moon, not even a star to give her the comfort of light and when she lowered her eyes from this black celestial plane, there was nothing but stretches of prickly thorn bushes growing for miles and miles across dead land. The sound of waves lapping against a shore echoed around her, suggesting that there was a body of water nearby.

But the worst thing of all was that there was no one around her.

She was alone, and somehow, though she had no idea where she was or how she got there, she realized that this solitude was something that was meant to last forever.

Overcome with despair, she fell to her knees, and just as a cry rose to her lips, she bowed her head and let out a strangled sob.

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.oO*Oo.

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Waiting.

Renji hated waiting. The way the quiet dragged along the clock was unbearable and the anxiety! It gnawed at him like a worm would do to an apple, digging deeper into his core and taking a bite out of his tolerance as it burrowed in further. More than once, he got up from his seat and walked around the barracks lounge just for the sake of moving. When he did this for the fifth time in a row, Rukia stuck out her foot just as he passed her, causing him to trip and fall right on his face.

"Stop doing that!" She snapped at Renji's crumpled form on the floor. At the interruption, Sado spared a glance then retreated back into his monk-like silence as though nothing had happened.

Furiously gathering his robes, Renji leapt up to his feet.

"Can you sit still for five minutes?" Rukia glared at him. "Just five minutes."

Renji opened his mouth to give her a piece of his mind when the panel door slid open and Ishida stepped in. The moment he entered, Sado and Rukia got up and started hounding him with questions.

"How'd it go?" asked Sado.

"Did he talk? Did he say anything…?" Rukia faltered, seeing the look on Ishida's face.

"Not a word." He replied to everyone's dismay.

"_Che._" Renji tuned his head. "I knew it."

"Ichigo said nothing to you?" Rukia was stunned.

"He just lied on his bed. I might as well have not existed to him." Ishida complained as he sat down. Frustrated, he took off his glasses and started massaging his temples.

Not long after Ichigo caused the horrendous scene at the Meeting Hall, the Commander-General decreed he be confined to the East Pavilion, a decrepit building that had once been used as barracks for the Seventh Division. Until the Senkai Gate was reopened, Ukitake and his division were assigned to keep close watch on the boy in case he did anything rash. In the interim, Renji, Sado, and Ishida had taken turns to visiting Ichigo but had little to no success in getting him to speak to them.

"I told you it wouldn't work." Renji rounded on Rukia. "Why d'you keep sending everybody else to talk to him instead of just going there yourself? He listens to you. Remember when you got him out of that depression last time?"

"This is different." Rukia's countenance darkened as she brooded over Ishida's failure.

"Fine, then let me have a go at him." Renji started to make his way for the door.

"Hitting Kurosaki on the head multiple times isn't going to do any good." Ishida warned behind his back.

"Well what the hell am I supposed to do then?" Renji whirled around. "You got any better ideas?"

"What Kurosaki needs," Ishida prescribed in a grim voice, "is aggressive therapy. I think he needs to be institutionalized and start on medication as soon as possible."

"That sounds a bit excessive." Sado murmured in disagreement.

"What's 'therapy'?" Renji looked puzzled but neither Sado nor Ishida offered clarification as to what the term meant.

"It's harsh," Ishida said, "but Kurosaki needs serious help. Think about it. Who walks up to the Commander-General of Soul Society and demands the Royal Key from him? Who does that?"

"A person who's lost his mind." Renji muttered.

"Exactly," Ishida nodded, "which is why I think Kurosaki should undergo treatment as soon as we get home."

"Do you think what he said is true?" Rukia looked at the other three. "About Inoue being in Hell?"

An uncomfortable silence followed this question.

"I don't know." Ishida admitted. "Urahara-san was the one who told him that, wasn't he? And his guesses are pretty close to being right most of the time. What exactly do _you_ know about Hell?" He turned to Rukia and Renji, the only shinigami of the group.

"Not much." Renji crossed his arms. "Back at the Academy," here he cast a knowing look at Rukia, "teachers told us very few souls get condemned to Hell and that happens only when they can't be reborn."

"Reborn?" Sado frowned.

"Most souls undergo reincarnation." Rukia elaborated. "But there are some that are too evil to survive the process so they get sent to Hell."

"Basically, it's Heaven's trashcan." Renji colorfully summed up.

"But Inoue-san wasn't evil." Ishida countered.

"It's not necessarily 'evil,' it's more like damage." Renji spoke for Rukia. "Serious damage. Like they're so broken that they just can't go through being reborn. It'd be too much for them to handle."

"That doesn't make any sense." Ishida shook his head. "I just don't see how Inoue-sanis in Hell of all places. The reasons for it don't seem to apply to her. She's not evil and she certainly wasn't damaged."

"But Gin crushed her soul." Rukia recounted in a very quiet voice. "We all saw it."

No one said anything after that. They did not try to reassure each other or speak words of comfort because it was pointless. What could they say? The mere thought of someone like Orihime condemned for all eternity was nightmarish, almost impossible to believe. Even if any of them could bring themselves to accept the truth, it was a hard and bitter one to swallow.

"Is there no way?" Sado lowered his eyes to his hands. The spaces between his fingers were open and for a moment, he imagined the triangular gaps to be the cracks in which opportunity slipped through. But his question remained unanswered and quite frankly, he wasn't too surprised. Nobody had any solutions. It was a lost cause, a situation in which hope was powerless to fix and overcome. The only, sensible option was to give up...

To surrender...to move forward...

Suddenly, Rukia stood up. With a purposeful air, she marched towards the panel doors, slid them open with a loud clack, and without a word of explanation, she went out.

"Rukia?" Renji blinked after her. "Oi! Rukia!"

He dashed after her, leaving Ishida and Sado to confusedly stare after their backs then turn to one another, wondering what they had said to set Rukia off.

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.oO*Oo.

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When Hitsugaya Toshiro sent his vice-captain back to the Tenth Division's barracks to rest, as she had been complaining nonstop of back pain, he forgot to consider the possibility that Matsumoto was lying.

Then again, it wouldn't have been surprising as it was a frequent habit of hers to get out of duties. If he gave her any administrative paperwork, he would find the documents wedged underneath the sofa cushions in his study. If he told her to attend a meeting, she would always arrive "fashionably late" as she liked to call it.

Today was no different.

Instead of stepping into the Tenth Division lounge as she had been instructed to, she changed directions. Tugging at her fuchsia scarf, she tightened her robe over her generous bosom when a cold breeze blew past her and ruffled the hem of her pants. She walked, nodding her head every once in a while at those who passed her along the gallery until she reached the East Pavilion. Crossing her arms, she kept her eye steady and her voice clear when she made her demands.

"I want to see him." She plainly told a pair of Thirteenth Division guards watching the perimeter.

"Er…" One of the guards exchanged a concerned look with his partner. "I don't think you should, Matsumoto-fukutaichou."

Matsumoto narrowed her eyes. "Why not?"

"A lot of people came by to speak to him but they always ended up leaving early." The guard explained.

"So?"

"Well, we just don't think you should waste your time."

"Hmph." Matsumoto airily flicked away the ends of her scarf. "I'll be the one who decides what to do with my time."

When the guards realized that nothing could be said or done to get the lieutenant to leave, they shrugged and allowed her to enter.

After slipping through various panels and additional sentinels, she reached the innermost chamber where Ichigo was kept. When she got there, she seated herself as close to the bars as possible and turned her head to the cell. He lay on his cot, seemingly asleep, but his eyes were open and pointed straight to the ceiling. Even when Matsumoto called his name, he failed to respond. In the dim light, she could make out his face and saw the pathetic, depressed expression he wore. She pursed her lips, fighting the urge to avert her eyes.

Taking a breath, she began to speak and when she did, it was in a voice of determined calm.

"The Senkai Gate's going to open in four days and when that happens, I won't be able to see you ever again. So you better listen, Ichigo, because this'll be the last time we talk." Matsumoto paused. "I didn't come here to lecture you or tell you what you did in the Meeting Hall was stupid. I'm glad you did it."

She glanced at him.

"I'm glad you said all those things because you were right. Orihime doesn't deserve to be in Hell. She never did anything wrong. She just…" Matsumoto lowered her head, letting her beautiful hair fall over her face. "…she only wanted to help you."

Ichigo stirred but Matsumoto went on as though she hadn't seen him move.

"I thought about this for a long time and after a while, I figured it'd be wrong if you went back without knowing, so here it is." Her aquamarine eyes swept over Ichigo. "You remember when Orihime disappeared?"

For a while, there was no answer until at last, she saw him give a barely perceptible nod. "Ah."

"Everyone thought she died but then you told us she healed your wrist for you." Matsumoto recalled. "I've been thinking…I keep wondering why and how she did it. Then I realized," and here, she looked up, "the Arrancar must've given her time. I don't know what exactly it was for or how long she had but out of all the people she could've gone to…out of all of us…she chose you."

Matsumoto closed her eyes.

"She chose you, and I know why she did that. It was because you were the person she cared for the most, the person she was in love with."

A startled silence followed in the wake of this revelation.

"She loved you for a long, long time." Matsumoto smiled in the dark as she felt hot tears saturate her lashes. "She told me all sorts of stuff about you, you know? Like how you're always grumpy when it rains and that chocolate's your favorite sweet. Strange, huh? How she knew little things like that.

"She used to tell me how she was jealous of Rukia being close to you, of being able to kick you out of your depressed mood when she couldn't. That always made her sad but I'd tell her, 'Cheer up! You're just as important to Ichigo as Rukia is.' "

Matsumoto stopped then took a long, shuddering breath. She hated crying. No matter how hard she tried to keep herself calm like Hitsugaya-taichou, it never worked. What a sorry sight she must have made, losing control over her emotions this rapidly. Swallowing hard, she continued.

"She was so worried about being a burden. She said she wanted to get stronger and be able to fight, to prove herself. But I think it was partly because of you, especially after what happened when the Arrancar first showed up. I should've known she'd do something like that…jumping in to save everyone. I should've known."

Her voice broke. Immediately, she turned away from the bars and hid in the shadows to keep Ichigo from seeing her shoulders shaking. When she regained some of her composure, she blotted her tears with the back of her hand in an attempt to preserve her eyes from going red though without much success.

"Anyway," Matsumoto sniffed as she wiped her nose with her scarf, "the reason why I'm telling you this is because Orihime never got to tell you how she felt and now…now she won't be able to so I thought I'd do it for her. I thought it'd be wrong if you just went back without knowing."

To this, she received no answer but the sound of Ichigo's quiet breathing.

Disappointed, Matsumoto clutched at her robes. Well, what could she have expected? The guards had told her he was unresponsive and she knew from gossip that Ichigo's friends had had trouble with him as well. Still, she felt she had an obligation towards that poor girl and that she had to see through it.

Just because their friendship was brief, it did not make it any less significant. After all, she had been the only one who knew Orihime's secret and had kept it hidden all these months. The girl may have been dead but that did not mean the knowledge had to die with her too. _He _deserved to know just as much as _she_ deserved closure.

"So I guess this is goodbye." Matsumoto rose from her seat. Combing a stray hair away from her face, she reached out and wrapped her slender fingers around a bar. Ichigo was still lying down, seemingly oblivious to her leaving just as he had been with her arrival.

"You know, for what it's worth," she called softly, "I think you two would've been happy together."

With that being said and done with, she let her hand go and left.

For a very long time, Ichigo stayed motionless on his cot. Voices of friends revolved around his mind, each one demanding him to get up and do something. He felt listless, like a dead horse that everyone kept beating down with words. He wanted to get out of bed, he really did, but a cold weight seemed to keep him glued to the sheets. A part of him wanted to fight it off but the other half desired nothing more than to surrender and sink into it.

…_the person she cared for the most, the person she was in love with… always made her sad…so worried about being a burden…_

_...because of you…_

…_all for you…_

_For you._

Violently, he turned and pressed his face into a pillow so hard that the fabric creased deeply into the cushion. He scrunched his eyes shut and bit down on his lip, steeling himself to stay quiet but not before a tear escaped and slid down his cheek, melting into the dark.

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.oO*Oo.

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_Tap._

A fine bristled brush stained with ink circled the parchment. It swirled and moved in sweeping arcs and soft angles. Ukitake gazed down at his work, absorbed in the movement of his hand and the flick of the brush's tip as he traced out characters. He was doing very well until he felt a stabbing wince in his chest. Overcome, he cast the utensil aside and laid a hand on the afflicted area, feeling the ridges of his linen bandages.

Ever since that deranged Arrancar called Wonderweiss had impaled him, he had even more trouble breathing than before and walking around had become an arduous task. Unohana had done an extraordinary job in healing the wound but as he already had fragile health to begin with, the recovery was slow.

Sighing, Ukitake raised his eyes.

A lush, green garden met his gaze while a miniature brook murmured and babbled in the background. Taking an appreciative whiff of the fresh air, he leaned back in his seat and in brief display of impropriety, he stretched out his legs underneath the writing table. Lapsing into pensive silence, he let his mind drift off, vaguely wondering what to have for lunch when he sensed a familiar presence approaching him.

"Taichou_…_?"

"Ah, Rukia!" Ukitake glanced to his left and smiled, seeing his newly-appointed fourth seat walking up. To his mild surprise, he spotted Renji following her closely with a look of apprehension on his face.

"I'm sorry for barging in on you like this." Rukia apologetically began once she knelt before the captain. "The maidservant told us you were resting."

"No, just practicing calligraphy." Ukitake gestured to the sheets of paper.

"Are you feeling well?"

"I am, much better in fact, thank you." Ukitake nodded in thanks. He glanced at Renji again, noticing he was growing more sullen by the second. Realizing that this was not a courteous visit of a subordinate checking in on her superior, Ukitake straightened his back then tucked his legs in again. "Is there something wrong?"

Neither said anything.

"You're not in trouble, are you?" Ukitake looked back and forth from Renji to Rukia but again, he got no response for a good minute or so until the latter did something unexpected.

"Ukitake-taichou_._" Rukia bowed low in submission. Seeing her do this, Renji hung his head as though ashamed, and in a sense, helpless.

"Rukia, what…?"

"Please…" Ukitake heard her whisper. "You're the only person we can ask this. We've got no one else and I...we...need your help."

"I don't understand." He stared.

Then to his utmost shock, Rukia finally raised her head, looked at him squarely in the eye, and declared her mission.

"We want to steal the Royal Key."


	4. Scales of Justice

Centuries ago, when Yamamoto had been an instructor at Shinou Academy, he once imparted some wise advice as teachers often do with their students."Live according to your own justice, and for that purpose alone, learn to gain strength from it."

Out of all Yamamoto's students, none took those words to their heart more than Ukitake and Kyoraku. It was many years before the captains realized that their mentor had given conflicting counsel. For how could someone who so ardently followed duty above all else, tell his pupils to diverge from the path of law and order to pursue their _own _version of justice? It was a conundrum that Yamamoto had left for Kyoraku and Ukitake to figure out and to this day, they were no near in solving it.

To say that Ukitake was disturbed after his interview with Rukia and Renji was a gross understatement. He did not know why he felt so strongly about this. It certainly was a different feeling than the one he had when Rukia had been imprisoned last winter. He had felt compelled to save her that time and knew without a doubt that it was the right thing to do. Now, he wasn't so sure and this uncertainty bothered him.

He knew very little of Orihime but by all accounts, she was regarded as a kind and sweet girl whose beauty seemed to be a physical reflection of her goodness. It was hard to imagine someone like that trapped in a miserable place like Hell and the idea was abhorrent enough to move the captain to pity. Still, he was uneasy. There was no real proof that the girl truly was in that part of the netherworld and even if she was, it was impossible to get her out. Rescuing Rukia from Central 46's wrath had been one thing but to contend with all of Heaven and Hell to retrieve Orihime was exponentially more dangerous.

_If there is even the smallest chance of rescuing Inoue, _Rukia's voice flitted across his mind, _we want to take it._

Ukitake sadly gazed at his fallen brush as he thought of the words he had wanted to say to his Fourth Seat but couldn't at the time. That it was too flawed of a plan to execute.

"_Yo_!"

Startled, Ukitake looked up to see Kyoraku approach him from the east bridgeway. For reasons unknown, Kyoraku was not wearing his flower overcoat or his straw hat. The lack of these objects made him look strangely forlorn and plain, much like a peacock without its gorgeous plumage and tail.

"You're not wearing the kimono_._" Ukitake commented. "What happened to it?"

"Got torn up. I'll have to order new ones." Kyoraku shrugged then seated himself in the same space that Rukia and Renji had occupied just hours before. In lazy abandon, he stretched out his arms and turned his face to the winter sun. "Calligraphy?"

"A new hobby I'm trying to get into," sighed Ukitake, "all the healers suggested I lay low for a while and not do anything strenuous."

At the mention of this prescription, Kyoraku's countenance darkened. Slowly, his eye fell from the sky and went over to Ukitake's chest. Though Ukitake had managed to cover most of his bandages with his robes, a sliver of white peeked out underneath from his shift.

"How are you doing?"

"Ah, I'm fine, really." Ukitake dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Retsu-senpai is amazing as ever. I'm good as new—"

"—I'm sorry."

"Eh?" Ukitake blinked.

Kyoraku averted his eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't get there in time." His voice was low and filled with regret.

"It wasn't your fault." Ukitake graciously let the apology slide. "You were distracted, so was I. It doesn't matter now."

"But—"

"Forget it." Ukitake said, and from his tone, it was clear that he considered the matter closed. He paused then lifted up his brush again to start writing. After a while, when he felt it was safe to look up, he saw Kyoraku staring off at no particular point.

"I'm glad you came. I've actually meaning to talk to you about something." Ukitake began at last.

"Mm? About Ichigo?"

"Yes."

"Go on." Kyoraku nodded to Ukitake to continue.

And so, Ukitake launched into a weary retelling of what Renji and Rukia requested of him and their reasons for it. He watched Kyoraku the whole time for a reaction but all he got was silence. It wasn't until he was finished that Kyoraku finally said something.

"They're insane."

"I know." Ukitake agreed.

"They're stupid."

Ukitake could only nod.

"They're also right." Kyoraku glanced at him. "That girl doesn't deserve that kind of fate."

"But can we even do anything about it?" Ukitake questioned.

"Maybe." Kyoraku shifted in his seat. "There isn't just one way to Heaven."

"For this heaven, there is, and it's blocked. Genryusai-senseiwon't budge and you know it."

"Not if somebody gave him the slip."

"No one can." Ukitake countered in a quiet voice. "Not even us. _We_ tried and failed."

"But Ichigo hasn't." Kyoraku fiddled with a loose string at his sleeve and pulled at it, watching the stitches unravel. His tone was light, casual even, but that wasn't what caught Ukitake's attention. It was the pensive light that cast over his eyes, the thoughtful frown at the corner of his mouth.

Ukitake recognized that expression. How many times had he seen it in school whenever Kyoraku was planning something? He set down his brush.

"I know what you're thinking."

"Some dangerous stunt, right?" Kyoraku grinned before it shrank into the smallest of lines. "But this time, I want you out of it."

Now, this, Ukitake hadn't expected. "What?"

"If something's going to be done, you can't be involved." Kyoraku stated. "I don't think I can pull it off by myself. I'll need Kisuke and having some of the Vaizards help out would be nice but I won't count on them just yet."

"What are you talking about?" Ukitake looked bewildered. "What do you mean…what do you mean I can't be involved?"

"Stealing the Royal Key is asking for a death sentence." Kyoraku said in a stern voice. "You've got a family, Ukitake. What are your brothers and sisters going to do when they see you get executed on the hill? Do you really want them to deal with that?"

Ukitake opened his mouth to speak but Kyoraku cut him off with a shake of his head.

"If anyone's going to the chopping block, it's me."

"_No!_"

Ukitake leapt up to his feet so fast that he knocked over his inkstone. Viscous liquid oozed out and seeped into the parchment, creating wet black circles on the papery background. Drawing himself into full height, he glowered down at Kyoraku.

"If you do this, you'll be risking just as much as me. Your captaincy, your powers, your titles! Think Kyoraku! Think of how much you have to lose!"

"I don't care." Kyoraku leveled his gaze with Ukitake's.

"What about Nanao?" Ukitake demanded.

"Nanao-chancan get transferred to another squad when I'm gone." Kyoraku said, trying and failing to sound indifferent.

"Are you listening to yourself?" Ukitake's eyes flashed in anger and disbelief.

"Yeah, and I sound like I'm making perfect sense." Kyoraku forced himself to make a carefree smile. "Look, the Goteijusantai's reforming and Yama-jii's bound to get promoted to the Royal Guard soon. Who do you think Central 46 is going to look at to take his place? It's either you, Retsu, or me and let's face it, I'm not cut out to be a Commander-General. I hate fighting. I don't like following the rules or ordering people around, you know that."

"And that's why you want to steal the Royal Key?" Ukitake looked at him incredulously. "So you can shirk away from being appointed Commander-General?"

"_Eh?_ You make me seem so heartless!" Kyoraku sounded stung.

"Stop joking around! You could get _killed_ or _exiled _for eternity for this." Ukitake laid heavy emphasis on the words. "You might _never_ come back to Seireitei. Is that honestly what you want?"

"Pretty much." Kyoraku coolly responded. "Come on, don't give me that look. We both knew this was coming."

"What, exactly?" Ukitake snapped, sounding so unlike his usual self.

"The day I leave Soul Society for good."

Ukitake was stunned. "I thought you were just saying that for laughs! I never knew you meant any of it!"

"Yes, you did." Kyoraku said. "You've known better than anyone that I never wanted to be a shinigami in the first place because all you do is fight. 'Purifying souls' is just an excuse to battle with hollows. I've been doing it for years and I'm tired. I'm tired of it, Ukitake.

"You ask me why I'd risk everything for the boy? I just gave you my reasons. Selfish or not, at least I get to give him a chance at saving that girl and hey, I might even get a grand exit while I'm at it."

Ukitake was so shell-shocked at this point that he couldn't even spit out a sentence let alone a word.

"Like I said," Kyoraku stood up, "I'm going to see if Kisuke can help me out on this one. As for you, stay out of it."

"You know I can't do that." Had he the strength to, Ukitake would have yelled. Stealing the Royal Key wasn't what disturbed him, it was Kyoraku's cavalier attitude. He made the subject of leaving Soul Society sound as if he were going on a temporary holiday when they both knew that wasn't how exile worked.

"I'm not asking, Jushiro." Kyoraku turned to go.

"Shunsui!" Ukitake called after him. "Shunsui, wa—!"

Stopping in mid-breath, Ukitake gasped then clapped a hand to his mouth as a mad fit of coughing seized him. His chest and shoulders shuddered as it wrestled with disease and injury. When his coughs finally subsided, he wearily raised his head but to his utter dismay, he stood alone on the verandah.

Kyoraku had already gone.

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He couldn't sleep.

No matter how many times Ichigo closed his eyes and waited for his mind to be dragged into some blank dream, sleep never came. Instead, he paced back and forth in his cell, assailed with a frustration like he'd never known before. Of all the times Matsumoto could have chosen to tell him…wasn't it enough that he was trying to cope with Orihime's death? And now _this._

She had loved him.

_Loved._

The very word was enough to render him thunderstruck. It transgressed against friendship, going above and beyond what he could have possibly imagined. He, honestly, thought he had been just an ally, a friend. At least that's what he believed until yesterday. He had been so much more to Orihime than he realized and all the things that Matsumoto had said hit him like a speeding bullet, leaving him to writhe and bleed in confusion.

He gazed down at the floor.

It explained it all.

Why she had been so shy around him, how she could read his mood just by one look, why she had been so willing to go to Hueco Mundo without a fight, why she begged him not to die. It hadn't occurred to him until now—and what a sorry realization it was—how much she had done. She had thrown herself in front of her brother's demonic ghost, skipped class, rebuffed her usual crowd of friends, pushed herself physically, voyaged to Soul Society and back with him, healed him, unhesitatingly risked her life for him, shielded him from Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, Aizen himself…

Staggering from the enormity of her deeds, Ichigo dug his hands into his hair. Imprisonment and solitude had forced him to think—really _think_—on everything and in one of his reflections, he stumbled across a problem.

_Why, _Ichigo maddeningly wondered, _why am I so sad?_

It was, of course, a stupid question given the circumstances. Orihime had just _died _and the Goteijusantai had lost to Aizen. He had every right and reason to feel sad. But there was something about this depression he couldn't quite place. It ran deep, splintering him inside and outside. There were so many things that could have caused this: guilt, the sense of failure, doubt. The problem was that he felt all of them so close together he could no longer distinguish which was which.

If it had been Sado, Ishida, Renji, or even Rukia lying dead in the crypt—would he have felt this same sadness? Would he have risked defying Yamamoto for them too? And that just wasn't all that bothered him. There were other matters to consider and questions that needed to be answered.

For instance, what exactly made him promise to protect Orihime?

_Well that's obvious! _His conscience retorted. _It was your fault she got injured, wasn't it? You couldn't control the hollow side and she had to jump in to save your ass. You owed her that one. Even Rukia thought so._

All right, then how could he explain the melancholy he fell into when she disappeared to Hueco Mundo?

_You were in shock, _his mind reasoned, _you got barred from rescuing her that time. You were her_friend _and being her _friend, _you got upset when she left. Anybody would've been depressed if they were you. Don't you think Renji and Rukia felt the same way?_

But what about the time when Ulquiorra had told him Rukia had died and that _he _was the one who kidnapped Orihime? Instead of going directly to the former's aid, he had chosen to stay and fight instead.

_Rukia didn't go to Hueco Mundo to be coddled and protected by you, _his conscience reminded, _she's a fighter. You knew she'd be fine. Besides, you've got a short fuse. Doesn't take that much to set you off and that's exactly what Ulquiorra did._

Fine, yet Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had pointed out he got stronger and postulated various reasons as to why. The latter in particular had singled out Orihime as a probable cause. Why had he done that?

_You're overanalyzing! _His conscience angrily responded. _They only said that to throw you off!_

Why, when he was supposed to be dead, had he transformed into that horrific beast? He couldn't remember anything from the incident but Ishida had filled him in on the missing details and he had been astounded to find out that Orihime's screams had triggered the metamorphosis.

_You don't know that, _his taxed mind shot out, _you don't know if she's responsible. You've turned into a hollow before so why was this time any different? You probably just lost control over it again._

Ichigo walked to and fro in his cell, agitated. No matter how many excuses he could come up with, none of them gave him what he wanted. Weary, he ambled back to his cot and fell onto it. Shutting his eyes, he clenched at his sheets as his head started to spiral downward to chaos. Nothing made sense. This grief he felt now, the anger he had experienced then, the despair he had fallen into so many weeks ago…

He rolled to the side and pressed a fist into the mattress.

…what did they all _mean_?

…why…

…why was he feeling this way…?

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.oO*Oo.

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At the Kuchiki manor, a visitor arrived unannounced late in the evening, requesting to see the head of the house.

The gatekeeper, recognizing the man at once, hurriedly let him through the main gate and hollered for some light. At the call, a retinue of pageboys hustled forward bearing lanterns and together, they escorted the newcomer into the manor.

"Apologies for being late, sir!" A page wheezed as he and his companions ushered the distinguished guest across the courtyard.

"No, no, it's fine." Ukitake dismissed. "You weren't late. I'd like to speak to Kuchiki-taichou...he's still awake, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir." The page confirmed. "But I'm afraid you might have to go back. Kuchiki-sama's unaccustomed to being disturbed at this hour."

"I understand but this is urgent." Ukitake said firmly. "Please tell him that the captain of the Thirteenth Squad is here to see him and that it's important."

"Of...of course!" The page frantically nodded.

After a manservant informed his master that someone was here to see him, Ukitake was then taken to a long gallery and after a considerable amount of time had passed, he was finally let into a chamber located on the manor's west end.

He found Byakuya sitting alone at his writing table with a brush in hand. A single oil lamp was the only source of light in the room and strangely, the dim setting struck Ukitake as lonely. The last time he had visited the manor was when Hisana had been alive and the undisputed lady of the house. He remembered thinking how content Byakuya seemed when he was with her and now that the poor woman was dead, her absence clearly made a noticeable difference upon her husband.

"This is unexpected." Byakuya remarked without turning around to face Ukitake. Instead, he continued to draw out more characters onto an unfurled scroll. His slender hand swept the brush along the paper, generously spreading the ink in even strokes.

"I'm sorry." Ukitake said to his back as he knelt onto a seat cushion. "I would've come tomorrow but this can't wait."

"What can't wait?" Byakuya calmly dipped the tip of his brush into his inkstone.

"I want to use your family's archives."

There was a pause.

Slowly, Byakuya twisted his neck around and gave Ukitake a sidelong glance. The brush lay still in his hands, enwrapped by his fingers.

"The Kuchiki clan has the most extensive records in Seireitei. With your permission, I'd like access to them."

"Why?"

In that one word, Byakuya managed to imbue all of his displeasure and suspicion. Clearly, he did not anticipate this random request coming from Ukitake. Then again, should he have been surprised? Ukitake was an eccentric man in his own right, who had crossed the lines of propriety on more than one occasion. There was no doubt the Thirteenth Division's captain was a formidable shinigami but Byakuya always regretted the fact that Rukia had such an oddball for a superior.

"Because," Ukitake quickly thought up an excuse, "I'd like to look up the original documents for ancient folktales. I'm thinking about writing a retelling for my next novel."

"The Main Library has copies." Byakuya pointed out.

"I'd prefer to see a true, original source." Ukitake insisted which only confirmed Byakuya's misgivings that the captain had another reason for accessing the archives.

He set down his writing brush and this time, he looked right into Ukitake's face as if to show that he wasn't an idiot. He knew when he was being lied to.

"Perhaps I am over thinking this," Byakuya coldly observed, "but I seem to be under the impression that you want to look into my family's records so you can figure out the Royal Key's location."

Inwardly, Ukitake gave a start then had to suppress the need to shake his head in amazement. How perceptive…Aizen should have been given a medal for fooling Byakuya into thinking his beloved sister was a good-for-nothing traitor. He, much to his chagrin, had been caught in less than five minutes.

"Before he defected, Aizen asked if he could access the clan's documents. I refused even though I didn't know what exactly he was looking for at the time." Byakuya explained. "If I am right in my assumption, I would have to wonder why a captain of the Goteijusantai would want to do such a thing."

"To save a girl's soul from perdition and help a boy in his torment." Ukitake quietly confessed.

"You mean Kurosaki Ichigo." Byakuya's eyes hardened. The disdain in his face was hard to miss. "Noble aspirations, Ukitake, but I'm afraid you are blinded by affection in this matter. What's done is done. That girl is beyond help and there is nothing you can do about it."

"I'm surprised at you." Ukitake murmured. "Out of everyone, I thought you would have the most compassion for Kurosaki's situation."

"And why would you think that?"

"Because," Ukitake gently ventured, knowing full well that he was treading on a sensitive subject, "you know what it's like to lose the person you loved best. If there was a way for you to get your wife back, wouldn't you risk all to see her again?"

For once, Byakuya was silent.

"I know what I am asking is high treason in itself." Ukitake acknowledged. "I also know that the reasons for it might strike you as weak, foolish even. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that we owe Kurosaki and his friends. Think of how much they have done for Soul Society and what they have risked in our stead. We need to return the favor."

"There is no need." Byakuya looked away.

Ukitake regarded him carefully. "I think _you _in particular are indebted in Kurosaki more than anyone else."

A deep frown twisted Byakuya's countenance.

"He saved Rukia's life." Ukitake plainly stated. "He did what you couldn't and he believed in her innocence when you wouldn't. You owe him for that."

He stood up to leave. Though Byakuya hadn't said anything, he knew he had crossed an invisible line when he mentioned Hisana and Rukia. Sliding the panel door open, he stepped out then started to shut it when Byakuya spoke.

"I can't let you look into the records."

For the briefest moment, Ukitake felt a swift stab of disappointment but Byakuya went on. "The servants will spot you and wonder why you're in the family library. It will be less suspicious if I lead the search instead." The Sixth Division's captain glanced at him. "I assume my previous guess on what you wanted was correct?"

Ukitake inclined his head forward.

Byakuya lowered his voice. "Are you alone?"

"No." Ukitake said out of the corner of his mouth.

"How many are there then?"

"Kyoraku, Kisuke, probably Yoruichi."

Byakuya turned his head with such scorn that could only have been achieved by an aristocrat like himself. "You realize this has a high probability of failure, don't you?"

"Not if we cooperate." A ghost of a grin flitted across Ukitake's pallid face.

Byakuya hesitated and after a considerable amount of time had passed, he bent his head down and returned to his calligraphy. Seeing this as a tacit gesture of dismissal, Ukitake stepped back into the night when he heard a voice belonging to not a fellow captain, shinigami, or the twenty-eighth head of the Kuchiki clan. It was that of a concerned brother.

"Whatever you're planning, leave Rukia and my lieutenant out of it or the deal is off."

Ukitake placed a hand on a latch and lowered his head. Kyoraku was an idiot if he thought of scheming right under Yamamoto's nose without help. He didn't care if he had been warned to stay away and had known in the back of his mind that Byakuya would want something in return for his help. It was an added complication but maybe, hopefully, something could be worked out. After all, Rukia and Renji would not go quietly unless they were given an iron-clad reason. The Quincy and human, included.

"...you have my word."

The panel slid to a close, leaving Byakuya alone with his scrolls and to silently wonder what dangerous enterprise he had agreed to join in.


	5. Schemes

_Help me,_Orihime prayed as she tore her way through the thorny ravine. _Help me God_, _please help me._

Blind, she put out her hands into the dark to save her face from the barbs but they scratched through her clothes anyway, cutting across the stitches to leave her gown in tatters. They pricked against her skin and drew bloody lines across her forehead and fingers. But she pressed on, terrified that the ghosts she had first encountered would come back and attack her again.

All she wanted was to get away from the grey hall as far as possible so she continued on a straight path. Occasionally, she would be drawn to the sound of water and change direction only to change her mind then stick back to the original route. Had she been calmer, she could have made a reasonable assumption about her current location but her mind was nowhere near that state. Hysteria had driven her senses out of control. Every shadow was a threat and every sound she heard was amplified in her ears ten times louder.

"Ah!"

Stumbling forward, Orihime fell out of the thick bramble and landed on wet sand with her palms splayed out. They pressed deep into the muddy grains and when she tried to get up, she found she could not move. Panicked, she whipped her head back to see her dress caught by the thorns. She kicked away at them but only succeeded in tearing the fabric even further.

"Get off!" Orihime gasped when the barbs refused to give way.

Her shoes twisted against the prickly vegetation and danced madly in the air as she fought to free herself. Hair had plastered to the sides of her clammy face but instead of brushing them off, she lunged forward and with a great tug, she ripped off the hem then crumpled backward onto the sandy shore.

She lay there, puffing in and out icy air. How strange that her soul could mimic corporeal functions so well to the point that she almost believed she was still alive. Her lungs—did she even have any?—felt like someone had lit them with a match and her heart—was it still there?—seemed on the brink of collapse. She would have gladly fallen asleep had it not been for the sudden rush of water that seeped into her hair and made it plaster to the sides of her face. The cold felt so strong that the moment the water touched her scalp, she felt as though she had plunged through ice.

Startled, Orihime shifted her head to the side.

A tiny wave pulled back then fanned out to her, splashing her face. Too tired to move, she opened her mouth to let a few drops trail down her cheek and fall into her mouth. From taste alone she tried to figure out where she was. There was no salt so it couldn't have been ocean water but it wasn't entirely flavorless to be called freshwater either. There was a faint, bitter quality to it that made her wish for something sweet to counter the bad aftertaste.

_You're weak._

"Wh…what…?" Orihime whispered. Frightened, her eyes wildly roved about the dark but there was no one around her. But she had heard a voice, she was sure of it.

_You're helpless, indecisive, annoying, worthless. What good are you to anyone? You're not a fighter, you're just a nurse. You were never suited to a battlefield. You'll never live up to Rukia's standard. You're not as pretty. You're not as smart. You're not as strong. You're not as brave._

The water frothed and swirled, drawing away then sweeping out across the sand again. Little by little, it froze her hands and soaked through her clothes like an icy poison designed to take away resolve and strength altogether.

_It's no wonder why Ichigo doesn't love you. Can't you see how much better he is without you? He's been through so much already yet you constantly burden him. Always needing him to protect you, always getting him hurt._

_He never knew, he never noticed, and one day, he'll learn to forget you. You were just a friend and friends are replaceable. You meant nothing—not even to your own parents. Even now, they have yet to care that their own daughter is dead._

Wave after wave hit against her in relentless fashion, bearing more despair with every splash and spray. Weary from fatigue, she tried to move away but without much success. She could feel the sand underneath her slide and glide along with the current, slowly dragging into the water.

_A hypocrite is what you are. Your friends might've known you to be sweet and kind when really, you harbored resentment and hate. You despised Rukia. You were jealous of all that she had and wished she was gone, that she and Ichigo never crossed paths and he remained an ordinary highschool student instead of a shinigami. With her out of the picture, you could have had him all to yourself._

"That's not true!" Her breath hitched.

_Lie to yourself all you want when you know this is what you really feel. Don't even try to hope that he'll come and save you. He won't, not this time._

"I don't want him to! He doesn't need to save me."

_He doesn't love you._

"It doesn't matter." Orihime lied.

The skirt of her dress floated around her while the bodice clung to her ribs like a second skin. A rim of water ringed around her face and steadily rose to her chin. It was just as she said. It didn't matter if she would drown or evaporate into nothing. She was dead, nothing could change that.

All her friends would go on—they had to—with life. It would be selfish to expect them to remain stuck in the past and grieve over her. If it had been Rukia, Sado, or Ishida who had died, wouldn't they have wished for her to move on as well?

Once they overcame that hurdle, they still had a future to hope and live for. The possibilities that stretched before them seemed like a limitless horizon. How lucky they all were to be able to _live,_to love, to be happy.

But for her, all paths were closed but one. She had loved once in life and she would continue to do so even in death. After all, it wasn't so easy to forget that funny frown or that bright orange hair. How many times had she tried picking him out of the crowd at school or gaze at his sullen profile, wondering what he was thinking about? The image flickered before her eyes like a bright speck of light then all at once, everything around her whitened out to a blank.

For a brief second, she thought she was all by herself until she discerned a figure ahead in her line of sight.

There was Ichigo, looking significantly older but happy and well adjusted. A bubble of joy swelled inside Orihime so forcefully that she thought it would burst and drown her with indescribable bliss. In the back of her mind, she knew this was an illusion but she pushed the thought back and let herself immerse in this strange but wonderful dream. It wasn't real but why did that have to stop her from feeling this way? Dazed, she stretched out her fingers, willing them to go further, just a bit more so she could hold him for one moment.

One moment was all she wanted.

He seemed to so close but what was this? He wasn't alone. Clasping his hand to hers, an unfamiliar woman walked by his side. Her gait was graceful as a dancer's and when she laughed, she threw her head back a little, letting her hair catch the brilliance of the light. Breaking his gaze from his beautiful companion, he looked over his shoulder to see Orihime. For a mirage, he seemed remarkably tangible but the expression on his face was like a knife to her chest. Giving her a sad smile in farewell, he faded right before her eyes, leaving only a blank space behind.

The light faded and gradually the freezing cold and water returned, swathing her in icy reassurance that this was all real. That what she just saw was the inevitable and there was nothing she could do to change it.

One by one, her fingers lowered in defeat.

A part of her seemed to tighten around her chest, grasping at what was left of her heart in fervent desperation. It tugged and pulled, fighting wildly within then until at last, with a sigh of what could have been resignation, Orihime let the water close over her, letting everything go as she sank under the black depths.

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.oO*Oo.

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"This is it?" Ukitake stared at the small square of paper in his hands. Dumbfounded, he looked up to see Byakuya watching him.

He had been more than surprised when the Sixth Division's captain had sent a message to him this morning. The surprise then fizzled into shock when he discovered Byakuya, in record time, had managed to retrieve the much needed information and that the find was disappointingly small. He did not know what exactly expect but had hoped there would be more than enough records to give a strong indication as to the Key's location. A six by six card of parchment was not at all what he had in mind.

"I found nothing else." Byakuya glanced behind him to see if anyone was watching or listening but there was no one. The gallery was empty.

"But…" Ukitake was at a loss for words.

Byakuya looked annoyed. "The location of the Royal Key has been traditionally passed down from one Commander-General to the next verbally. Because of that, I found no definite record except this piece. It's a transcription of the inauguration ceremony."

"There are words missing." Ukitake pointed out.

"That's because the record was so old that I could make out only so many words and string them together into coherent sentences." Byakuya explained with a bite of impatience in his voice.

"This is all there is?" Ukitake pressed him.

"It was the closest I could find." His task done, Byakuya stepped aside and just as he was about to turn a corner, he glanced at Ukitake. A gleam of warning was in his eyes.

"Remember your word."

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.oO*Oo.

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Kyoraku Shunsui, notoriously known for his laziness and womanizing, was in many respects a walking contradiction.

Born to wealth and privilege, he had been reared with the greatest care and the moment he was of age, his parents enrolled him to Shinou Academy where they were sure their son would flourish. They were not disappointed. By the time he graduated, he had cinched the captaincy for the Eighth Division.

Unfortunately his mother and father were oblivious to their son's increasing dissatisfaction with his life and died before they had a chance to realize it. Born a noble, he hardly acted like one. Skilled at warfare, he detested the activity. Made a captain, he could have cared less about the authoritative pedestal he stood on.

It was incredibly ungrateful of him, he knew that. Thousands upon thousands of starving people in the Rukongai would have gladly traded upon their lives for his place and here he was, disregarding it all as if it were nothing.

It had taken Kyoraku years but at last, he felt the time had finally come. Admittedly, he was a bit of a romantic when it came to things but was wise enough to understand that the living world could not provide the total escape he wanted. But it gave him the next best thing—obscurity. He was not the first captain to abandon his position and live life as a mortal. Isshin, Urahara, Yoruichi, and many others had done it before.

Therefore, Kyoraku assuaged his conscience, his departure wouldn't come as a complete surprise. As for regrets, well, he had just one: leaving behind Nanao and Ukitake. Of course, taking them with him to the living world was out of the question. The girl was destined for a brilliant career as a soul reaper and Ukitake had way too much at stake in Seireitei. There was no way Kyoraku would let them get involved in his mess then have to pay for the consequences later.

So it came as a bit of a nasty shock when he found a certain white-haired stranger already at the Shiba manor where he had scheduled to meet with Yoruichi and Urahara.

"I don't care what you say." Ukitake warned as Kyoraku approached. "I'm in, whether you like it or not."

Kyoraku could only stare. "How did you…?"

"Kukaku told me about the meeting."

None too happy about this sudden bit of information, Kyoraku set his jaw. Perhaps he should have been more firm with Kukaku when he expressly told her that this meeting was to be kept a secret. "…are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing." Ukitake mildly responded.

"Get out of here while you still can."

"No."

"Jushiro," Kyoraku said in an unnaturally low voice, "I mean it."

"Is that all you can say to me after being friends for this long?"

"This isn't your fight."

"When you're involved, it becomes my fight too." Ukitake paced along the grass. "I've asked Byakuya to help out. He's looked into his family archives to see if there are any clues about the Royal Key and so far, he's found one thing." He patted the left side of his shift where Kyoraku could hear the sound of crinkling paper.

"Kuchiki?" Kyoraku widened his eyes in disbelief. Of all the people in Seireitei, he had counted the Sixth Division's captain as one of the least likely persons to assist in this type of scheme. After all, Byakuya wasn't exactly known among the Goteijusantai to be a rule-breaker.

"He's the only one with unrestricted access to Soul Society's oldest historical records. I thought it would be more…prudent… if _I_ asked him to help instead of the others."

"Why?"

"Umm," Ukitake darted his attention from Kyoraku to the sky, "he hasn't exactly forgiven Kisuke for the Hogyoku incident and, er, he doesn't like Yoruichi very much or Kukaku come to think of it. So that left me as the only person."

"Yeah, I figured, but what did you say to get him on board?" Kyoraku was curious.

"I'll explain more inside." Ukitake glanced at the manor's entrance. Without waiting for Kyoraku to respond, he bent his head down to avoid hitting himself on the beam and stepped inside, disappearing within the underground manor.

By the time Kyoraku reached the main room, he found Ukitake seated comfortably besides Urahara and Yoruichi. Kukaku sat at the head but Ganju was nowhere to be seen.

"Long time no see, Shiba." Kyoraku inclined his head forward in greeting.

"Sit." Kukaku nodded, breathing heady smoke from her lips. Her long pipe dangled along her fingers and scattered a fine sprinkle of ashes on the low table.

Kyoraku obliged. It was odd of Kukaku to be so accommodating to all of them. She wasn't stupid; surely she knew something was going on. Or perhaps that was exactly _why_she was willing to help them out. Despite her and Ganju's reconciliation to Rukia and the sad circumstances surrounding Kaien's death, Kyoraku knew that wasn't enough to erase decades' worth of hatred towards shinigami. It was tempting to think that due to this prejudice, Kukaku was only happy to assist in a scheme that undermined Seireitei's authority. Or so he thought.

"So," Urahara began in a brisk business-like manner, "I'm glad everyone was able to make it here tonight without causing too much trouble."

"Ah." Kukaku flicked the end of her pipe causing flakes of tobacco to fly. "I told Ganju to go out to the Rukongai with his friends else his face would have a date with my fist."

"My squad thinks I'm asleep." Ukitake added.

"And I told Nanao I was going for a walk." said Kyoraku.

"Good." Urahara nodded in approval. "Well then, I'm sure you all know why we're all here and what we're going to do about it." He paused then proceeded in a low, serious voice devoid of its usual lightheartedness. "I won't deny that my guess is as good as anyone's when it comes to Inoue-san's whereabouts but as much as I'd hate to admit it, it's more than likely that she's in Hell's domain."

"Kisuke." Yoruichi regarded him with doubtful eyes.

"It fits with my theory." Urahara pointedly looked at her.

"Which is based on cockamamie bullshit if you ask me." Kukaku opined in a tart voice. "For all you know, the girl's probably been reborn to the living world already."

"We don't know that."

"And neither do you, you just said it yourself." Kukaku's skepticism was hard to miss.

"Getting into the Royal Realm is the only way to know what really happened to Inoue-san. If she was reborn, Kurosaki-san will know. If she wasn't and is someplace else, then he can find and try rescuing her. Either way, he doesn't lose anything by going." Urahara evenly responded.

"Why the boy only?" Yoruichi asked. "One of us should go with him. It'd be safer."

"It won't make a difference." said Urahara. "Kurosaki-san could take a legion of shinigami with him and he'd still be in the same amount of danger if he was alone."

"Also…I'm afraid Kurosaki won't have his regular company for this journey." Ukitake spoke up, perking everyone's interest.

Yoruichi narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I asked Byakuya to see if there was any information concerning the Key and he agreed…on one condition."

"And that was?"

Ukitake hesitated. "That Rukia and Abarai take no part in the plan."

"Wonderful!" Kukaku enthused sarcastically.

"_Mah, mah_, isn't Kuchiki being protective." Kyoraku didn't seem the least bit surprised. "It's just as well."

"Then that leaves Ishida and Sado to go with Ichigo." Yoruichi assessed.

"But they won't be much use to him. They haven't even recovered from their wounds yet." Urahara paused. "He'll have to do this one on his own."

"By himself?" Yoruichi looked perturbed.

"Are you insane?" Kukaku demanded.

"It's the only option we have." Urahara replied in an indifferent voice.

"Like hell it is!" Kukaku glared at him. "Look, I like making trouble but even _I_ know when to stop and put my foot down. This has got to be the stupidest plan I've ever heard. You don't know where exactly this Orihime girl is yet you're willing to risk sending Ichigo to God-knows-where—and for what? So you can figure out whether your guess was right or wrong? Fucking ridiculous."

The brim of Urahara's hat lowered. "It's what he wants."

Kukaku slammed her fist down on the table. "He's sixteen, you idiot!"

"He's not a child. He's fought against things that most adults haven't even faced yet."

"So this is what you came to meet at my house for, eh?" Kukaku rounded on the others. "You all want to see one of his crazy schemes through?"

"Kukaku-san," Ukitake spoke, "you are not the only one concerned for Ichigo's safety—we all are. This is precisely why Urahara is arranging this for him so that he doesn't do anything rash. If he tries to take the Key by himself—and he most certainly will try—I'm afraid Genryusai-sensei won't spare him."

"And you think he stands a chance against the Royal Guard?" Kukaku scoffed.

"He defeated several Espada single-handedly and fought on par with Aizen. I have no doubt in his abilities." Ukitake answered in a steady voice.

"All right, well here's an idea," Kukaku proposed, "why don't you all have a heart-to-heart with the kid and get it through his thick skull that no matter what he does, he can't bring his friend back?"

"Kukaku," Yoruichi began only to be silenced.

"People die." Kukaku bitterly stated. "It's a fact of life. There's nothing else we can do but move on and just make the best of the time we have. The sooner Ichigo understands that, the better. Then you all won't even have to go through this insane plan to get him into the Royal Realm."

An awkward and uncomfortable silence greeted these words.

"That sounds like a great piece of advice, Shiba," Kyoraku replied at length, "but this is Kurosaki we're dealing with. He's not the type who likes to give up on friends. He'll do just about anything, even if he dies trying, to save them."

"Then this should be the perfect time to teach him stuff like that doesn't always work out." Kukaku snapped.

"If we did that," Kyoraku dolefully grinned at her, "he'd tell us all to go to hell."

"I think," interposed Ukitake, "as long as we take precautions…I don't see how we c_an't_pull this off correctly. It's worth a try."

"You said Byakuya found something, right?" Kyoraku asked, his memory jogged.

"Ah." Ukitake nodded, causing everyone to look his way. Pulling out the card of information from his robe, he laid it open on the table for everyone to read. In Byakuya's elegant handwriting, the following words were written:

_Of all the duties in which the Commander-General of Seireitei is responsible for, none is as sacrosanct as guarding the gateway of Heaven where Their Divine Majesties reside from those who wish to usurp Their thrones…the key to this realm does not belong to one but to all…none have the right to judge who is worthy to enter…be they strong, weak, innocent, guilty, loved, hated, living, dead, pure, impure…upon receiving the white investiture robe, predecessor and successor exchange words before the predecessor formally departs for that which he has prepared for in his tenure…along the lonely weaver's celestial strings, centre of the black swan's midnight eye, a grieving herder walks on magpie wings_

"What the hell is this supposed to mean?" was Kukaku's comment after reading.

"Eh? The riddle too hard for you to figure out, Shiba?" Kyoraku teased.

A scowl appeared on Kukaku's face. "Watch what you're implying."

"'The key to this realm does not belong to one but to all,' huh?" Yoruichi repeated.

Kukaku snorted. "Then what's the point of the Commander-General guarding its location if it belongs to everybody?"

"To protect it from 'those who wish to usurp Their thrones.'" Ukitake pointed on the card. "I suppose the last line is the most important…what do you think?" He turned to Urahara who had become rather quiet during the course of the meeting.

"Kyoraku's right about it being a riddle." Urahara said at last. "It's probably disguising the real location of the Key in it."

"'Along the lonely weaver's celestial strings, to centre of the black swan's midnight eye, a grieving herder walks on magpie wings.'" Yoruichi read aloud.

For a long time, nobody said anything more. Instead, they passed the piece of paper around, absorbed the message then slid it over to the next person. After a while, they roused themselves from the silence and started engaging in a caucus to slash off possibilities.

"It could be a kido spell." Yoruichi suggested. "It certainly sounds like one."

"But the incantation doesn't even have a number," said Kyoraku.

"Or maybe it's alluding to a description of the location." Ukitake offered.

Kukaku rolled her eyes. "Yeah, try thinking of a place that has strings, a bird's eye, and wings. Anything ring a bell?" When no one responded, she shook her head. "Guess not."

"…there is a number."

"Huh?" Everyone turned to Urahara.

"Three. Three lines. Three subjects." Urahara counted, tapping his finger on the parchment. "Think about it. The weaver, the swan, the herder. What does that sound like to you?"

"A load of crap." Kukaku yawned, looking noticeably bored.

"Of course." Ukitake breathed.

Kukaku blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what?"

"_Stars_." Ukitake sounded awestruck. "They're all stars."

"And what do those three particular stars make up?" Urahara looked up.

"Heh." Kyoraku smiled in understanding. "The Summer Triangle."

"Ho…is that the way the ancients hid it?" Yoruichi seemed mildly impressed.

"I don't get this." Kukaku was bewildered and it didn't help any matters when Urahara turned to her and politely asked if she had any star charts and maps of Seireitei he could borrow. When the requested objects were brought in, Urahara unfurled all of them out with a sweep and started poring over coordinates like a scientist who had just discovered something of great interest.

"_Ne_, Yoruichi." Kukaku nudged.

"Hmm?"

"What's he doing now?" Kukaku raised her brows high as Urahara spanned his fingers wide to trace out the distance between the Weaver and Herder stars.

"Figuring out where the Key is, obviously. Weren't you paying attention?"

"Of course I was! I just don't get how three random stars are going to help you—"

"—this should work with triangulation, right?" Ukitake examined the Seireitei map.

"You two can go ahead with that." Kyoraku lazily waved to Ukitake and Urahara. "I've never liked math. Almost failed that course at the Academy. "

"That's because you were too busy staring at Minamoto-sensei's chest instead of doing your calculations." Ukitake cheerfully reproached as he started measuring angles.

"What can I say?" Kyoraku shrugged when Yoruichi and Kukaku gave him disapproving glances. "She was hot. Had the most beautiful breasts I'd ever seen in my entire life."

"That's enough." Kukaku looked disgusted.

"Ah, just thinking about those beauties makes me nostalgic…"

"Kyoraku."

"Round as rice cakes, white as snow…"

"_Kyoraku._"

"What I wouldn't give to just…"

"I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Evening slipped into dawn. After numerous consultations with the charts and maps, Ukitake and Urahara were finally able to narrow down at least three potential locations. Because the Summer Triangle moved its position during the seasons, more than one calculation had to be made.

"If our numbers are right, the Key could be in the Shrine of Penitence, the East Rukongai, or the First Division pavilion." Urahara pointed to the said positions on the Seireitei map.

"Might be with the First Squad. What better place for the Key to be? It's close to Yama-jii to keep watch over." Kyoraku surmised.

"But the other two locations make sense too." Yoruichi argued. "The Shrine is mostly made up of sekkiseki. It would be perfect to disguise the Key's reiatsu and make it virtually invisible to every shinigami in Seireitei. As for the Rukongai, it's obscure and no one would think to look there."

"Well I hate to break it to you," Kukaku interrupted, "but the Senkai Gate's going to open in two days and Ichigo and his pals are going to get sent home. I doubt we'll have time to sniff the Key out."

"We'll make time." Urahara said firmly.

"Did you hear what I just said?" Kukaku sounded annoyed.

"We'll make time." Urahara repeated. "We're lucky that we won't have to scope out all of Soul Society to find the Key. Combing through the shrine, Rukongai, and the pavilion won't be extraordinarily difficult. We'll need to exercise caution of course…"

"We should start figuring out how to get Ichigo." Yoruichi added.

"But since we don't know for sure which one of three spots the Key's in, I recommend we come up with several different strategies depending on what location we're in at the time." Ukitake said.

"Mm." Kyoraku murmured in agreement. "Best thing for us all would be get to Ichigo as far away from Yama-jii as possible. The old man's shunpo is as fast as hers." He nodded towards Yoruichi.

"Then how about a diversion?" Back in her element, the former commander of the secret ops division swept her hand along the lined streets and plots of land as she formulated the group's next steps. "The only way everyone can leave Ichigo alone is if we make them think _we_have the Key instead of him. They'll trail us and by the time they figure out the ruse, it'll be too late."

"But if Genryusai-sensei gets involved…" Ukitake looked grim.

"Now, now, don't get so pessimistic." Kyoraku chided.

"By the way," Kukaku glanced at Urahara, "what'd the Vaizards say? You talked to them about this, didn't you?"

Urahara's lips thinned. "They declined."

"On what grounds?" Kukaku raised her brow in curiosity.

"Since three of his comrades died fighting Aizen, Hirako considers him and the rest of the Vaizards even with Soul Society." Urahara explained in a heavy voice. "They believe they don't owe us anything after that sacrifice and expressly told me that they want to stay out of our affairs from now on."

"You did make it clear to them that this wasn't for Soul Society, right? That this was for Ichigo." Kyoraku inquired.

"But of course." Urahara reassured him. "Still, they're in no mood or position to assist Kurosaki-san, even if they wanted to. Hirako made that quite clear to me."

The five fell into a gloomy quiet. The fact that they weren't going to receive any outside help was a bit of a comedown and chipped their morale.

"We should split into pairs." Urahara decided after some thought. "I presume all of us have kept up with our shunpo? In that case, I'll be with Yoruichi-san. Together, we'll be responsible for making the Goteijusantai believe we are carrying the Key." He paused. "You're the one in charge over Kurosaki-san, yes?"

Ukitake bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"Then that means you'll have to come along with us to infiltrate the Key's location and retrieve it, Kyoraku-taichou."

"Sounds good to me." Kyoraku nodded.

"I'll create a fake substitute for the Key." Urahara elaborated.

"And Kisuke and I'll use it to attract some attention. That should give you a few minutes to reach the East Pavilion, Kyoraku." Yoruichi overrode. "As for you, Ukitake, it'd be best if you if stay with Ichigo. Is there any way you can delay the Gate's opening until evening? We'll need the dark for cover."

"I could try but I can't promise anything." Ukitake replied.

"Fine. If you can't, we'll find another way. Once we retrieve the Key, Kyoraku will split from Kisuke and me with the real one. Discretion and stealth is extremely important, you understand Kyoraku? _No one_ can see you enter or leave. But once you reach Ukitake and Ichigo—"

"I know." Kyoraku cut in. "I'll make it convincing, I promise."

"I don't doubt your sincerity but I have to ask you one last time." Urahara gazed into Kyoraku's eyes. "Are you absolutely sure about this? Once you defect, you won't be able to return."

"Ah, I'm sure." Kyoraku answered without a trace of hesitation. "What you're asking me isn't anything new. I know the consequences and I'm willing to take them."

Hearing this, Ukitake looked seriously displeased but Kyoraku took no notice. Though tired, the captains continued on refining their stratagem until around four in the morning, Kukaku called it quits and went straight to bed.

"_Keh_, do whatever you want." Kukaku yawned as she slipped out of the parlor. "All this for one human girl…Ichigo must really love her, no?"

At this, Ukitake, Kyoraku, Yoruichi, and Urahara simultaneously looked up from their maps. For a long minute, no one spoke. Instead, they all stared at her in stunned silence.

"What's with the faces?" Kukaku turned around. "I mean, why _else_ would the kid be this desperate?" When she got no response, she scowled. "All right, fine, don't say anything then. Just remember this. If any of you screw this up: I told you so."

"Give us some credit, won't you?" Kyoraku miffed, recovering from his bewilderment.

"And one more thing." Kukaku raised a finger to make a point. "If that boy even gets a _scratch _on him, you're all dead meat. Got it?" Then before anyone could reply, she exited the room and disappeared under the shadowed eaves.

"Well that was nice of her." Kyoraku blinked after Kukaku.

"She just doesn't want to see another situation like Kaien." Yoruichi explained somewhat apologetically.

"They _do _look alike, don't they?" Ukitake inflected. "That was the first thing I noticed about Ichigo when I met him. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him then. The resemblance was remarkable."

"Same here." Kyoraku grinned. "I often wondered if he was some reincarnated version of your vice-captain."

"Yes, well," the light in Ukitake's eyes dimmed, "I now know from Rukia that that's not likely."

"He was a good man." Kyoraku said, recalling Kaien's good-natured face and cheerful disposition. "I liked him and his wife. Shame they both didn't get to live long."

Further mentions of Ukitake's long-deceased lieutenant brought another session of sullen gloom and much sighing until Urahara cleared his throat and ventured in as courteous way as possible:

"Now that we've completed the plans, we need to decide which of us is going to tell them."

"Tell who?" Kyoraku was confused.

"Well…" Urahara avoided looking at him and everyone else, "…someone needs to tell Kurosaki-san's friends that they won't be accompanying him to the Royal Realm."

"Not me." Yoruichi automatically declined.

"Second!" Urahara sang.

"I don't know them all too well so…" Kyoraku glanced at Ukitake. "Looks like you'll be doing the honors."

"_Me?_" Ukitake gaped. "But…but why?"

"Considering they like you, they'll be less likely to bite your head off." Kyoraku airily replied.

"Now hold on a second!" Ukitake protested though his accusations of unfairness and not being aware that there had been a contest fell on deaf ears. When he realized no one was willing to take upon the task, he gave up.

"Honestly," he sighed in resignation, "why am I always the one bringing bad news to them?"


	6. For Friendship

"You all understand, don't you?" Ukitake leveled his gaze.

"…"

"Was there any part that wasn't clear?"

"…"

"Then, if you don't have any questions, I'll take my leave." Ukitake started to stand up from where he was sitting.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" Ishida bristled in indignation and he wasn't the only one who was upset. Sado, Renji, and Rukia all glared at Ukitake as though he had just personally insulted each of them.

"No, Ishida-kun." Ukitake said as gently as he could.

"But…!" Rukia started to protest.

"Rukia," Ukitake warned, "I gave Byakuya my word and if I go back on it, he won't hesitate to go to the Commander-General and tell him what we're all up to."

"_Che._" Renji spat in bitter disappointment. How very like Kuchiki-taichou to twist Ukitake's arm to get him and Rukia out of the way.

"As for you two," Ukitake turned to Sado and Ishida, "I admit Soul Society doesn't have much authority over you so I would like to ask you to do this as a favor, not to me or Urahara, but to your friends."

"For a favor, that's asking a lot." Ishida seethed.

"This is wrong." The disapproval in Sado's voice was heavy.

"Please try to understand." Ukitake surveyed them like a doctor informing his patient of how serious the disease had become. "Ideally, the others and I hoped that you would go with Ichigo as you all did for Hueco Mundo. But this time, it isn't like that. You two still haven't recovered from your injuries," he nodded towards Ishida and Sado then turned to Rukia and Renji, "and Byakuya wants to pull you out indefinitely."

"We aren't his damn kids!" Renji angrily burst out. "Who does Kuchiki-taichou think he is? Haven't we proved to him in Hueco Mundo that we're strong enough?"

"I know you're frustrated, Abarai-fukutaichou," Ukitake raised his hand for silence, "but I think I can speak for Byakuya when I say he isn't doing this to be difficult. He's only concerned about your safety."

"This isn't fair." Rukia was indignant.

"Fair? It's ridiculous!" Ishida snapped. Aggravated by Ichigo's silent treatment and insulted at the fact his injury was what barred him from going to the Royal Realm, he rounded on Ukitake and let him have it.

"I don't think you really know what you're asking of us! You forbid them—" he jerked his head to Rukia and Renji "—from going without even asking them what they want. You expect me and Sado-kun to let Kurosaki go on some kind of suicide mission _by himself_—what are we supposed to say to his friends back at home? To his family?"

Ukitake heaved a great sigh. "I'm sorry but you two are just going to have find some logical explanation to give them. I'd suggest memory modifiers but unfortunately, they only work for temporary events. Excising Ichigo and Orihime from everyone's memory is quite impossible so you will have to concoct a reasonable excuse for their absences."

Ishida looked away, disgusted.

"Have you told this to Ichigo yet?" Sado spoke up.

"No. I wanted to talk to you four first." Ukitake paused. "Believe me when I say this. We understand how difficult this is for you, we do. No one doubts your capabilities. We've all seen what you can do but there are times when one must hold back.

"From your reactions I can see you're all eager to help Ichigo and Orihime. In that case, the best possible thing you can do for them is not to offer promises of protection or head off to battle what lies ahead. You need to step out of this fight. You need to let us take care of everything and if any of you try to interfere with that, it will cost us all…including you."

A tense silence greeted these words.

Renji and Ishida seemed to be struggling with to say something back but no words came out.

"Do you need a decision now?" Rukia lifted her blue eyes to Ukitake.

"I'm afraid so." He replied. "Time is of the essence."

"Rukia, you can't be seriously considering—" Renji hotly began but she cut him off with a shake of his head. Sado gazed after her and although she hadn't said so much as a word to him, understanding was written all over him.

"All right." Rukia murmured. Her bangs fell over her eyes, shadowing half of her face from the rest of the company.

"Does this mean I have your word? All of yours?" Ukitake inquiringly glanced at the other three.

"You have mine." Sado answered. "It's not what I want but if this can save Inoue, I won't get in the way."

"Sado-kun…" Ishida faltered. When he realized that he would not get support from Sado in rebelling against Ukitake's request, he tightened his left hand into a fist. Forcing himself to maintain a steady composure, he pushed out his consent through clenched teeth.

"Very…very well. It's like Sado-kun said, this is for Inoue-san, after all."

"But—you can't—you can't—" Renji sputtered as everyone around him submitted to the captain's wishes albeit unwillingly.

"Do I have your word, Abarai-fukutaichou?" asked Ukitake.

"Yes, you do." Rukia automatically answered for him.

"No, you don't!" Renji leapt up from his seat and glared down at Rukia.

"Shut up Renji!" She snapped, breaking out of her reticence. In an instant, she too got on her feet. "This isn't about you! This is about rescuing Inoue!"

"Exactly, which is why I don't want to sit my ass and watch from the sidelines! I care just as much as you and Ichigo do about saving her so why does he get to go but I don't?"

"You're acting like a child." The coldness in Rukia's voice was so unlike her that if Renji didn't know any better, it was as if Byakuya himself had materialized right before his eyes.

"We don't have any other options. This isn't about who gets to fight and who doesn't. It's about getting Inoue back in one piece and we're lucky enough to even have that as a _possibility._" Incensed, she marched up to him and shoved a finger right into his chest. "How many people can say they figured out a way to resurrect the dead? Do you know what humans would _give_for that?

"You heard what Ukitake-taichou said, didn't you? We only have this one shot and I swear, Renji, if you do_anything_ to screw that up, I will never forgive you."

All color drained from Renji's face. It was a few moments before he was able to speak and when he did, his voice was oddly unstable. "You don't mean that."

"Swear." Rukia glared. "Swear to me, to Ishida, to Sado, and Ukitake-taichou that you'll stay out."

Renji narrowed his eyes. "Do you even realize what you're making me do?"

"Yes," answered Rukia, "the right thing."

After another heated exchange of words flying back and forth between them, Renji threw up his hands and ceded his word to Ukitake. Once Ukitake had gathered everyone's final assurances that they would not meddle with Urahara's plans under any circumstances, he stood up to go when Rukia stopped him and asked for a favor.

"Do you mind if I tell Ichigo about this?"

Ukitake hesitated. The last thing he thought Ichigo needed was another shouting match with Rukia and quite frankly, the boy had been demoralized enough already.

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea."

"I'd really like to talk to him." Rukia insisted.

Never the one to say no to his favorite subordinate, Ukitake gave in and agreed to take her to the East Pavilion to see Ichigo. But when he extended the invitation to the others, they declined, saying that they had already tried to get Ichigo to talk to them but without much success. Considering the number of failed attempts the three shared between them, it would be pointless to go and Rukia had as much a chance as Kon did in breaking the wall Ichigo had built around himself.

After leaving instructions for Ishida and Sado to continue on with their affairs as normally as possible, Ukitake left with Rukia for the pavilion. It wasn't until they were quite far from the barracks that he decided to remark on his fourth seat's behavior.

"You aren't your usual self today." Ukitake noted as they passed along the gallery.

"Huh?"

"When Yamamoto-sotaichou forbade you and Ichigo from going to Hueco Mundo, you told him you couldn't follow through with those orders. What I requested of you today was no different from what he commanded you to do then. Yet you didn't fight back. Why?"

"…"

"Well?"

"Sir, do you remember what you said to me on the night Kaien-dono died? It's the same with Ichigo." Rukia said, keeping her eyes straight ahead to avoid her captain's questioning gaze. "It's taken me a while to realize it but I think I finally understand why he's taking this so much harder than the rest of us."

Had Ukitake had more time, he would have questioned Rukia further but when he looked up, he realized they had already reached their destination. Once they obtained access from the wardens, they entered the winding, maze-like rooms of the East Pavilions to reach the innermost chamber.

"Tell him to be patient and act as if he knows nothing and be cooperative with my squad members." Urahara muttered when he sensed the cell guards retreating. "Two days from now, there'll be an ambush. Kyoraku will be cutting everyone down including me. It'll be all right." He added when Rukia looked stricken. "Ichigo shouldn't panic either. Once Kyoraku gets his zanpakuto, Ichigo needs to follow Kyoraku for further orders and if everything goes according to plan, he should already have the Key by then."

Rukia nodded.

"And Rukia…"

She paused.

"…don't be too hard on him." Ukitake slid the panel door open and once he saw she was in, he closed it behind her.

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.oO*Oo.

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It took Rukia a few seconds for her eyes to grow accustomed to the dim lighting and when she looked through the bars, she found Ichigo exactly as Renji had described. Prostrate in bed, eyes glued to the ceiling, and the most pitiful expression anyone had ever seen on his face.

Grabbing a spare chair that the guards had left for visitors to use, she dragged it forward then sat down.

"It's been a while." Rukia spoke at last.

Stillness answered her greeting.

"So that's how you're going to be, huh?"

"Rukia." Ichigo said quietly. He did not rise from his cot nor did he turn to look at her. Instead, he continued to talk to the dark. "I'm sorry…but I need you to leave me alone."

"No." She refused. "You can send Ishida, Sado, and Renji away as many times as you want but not me. I'm not going anywhere."

"Please."

"Just what were you thinking?" She whispered. "What the _hell_were you thinking, going into the Hall like that?"

Ichigo said nothing.

"I hate it when you do this." Rukia's voice hardened. "Whenever you go rogue, you leave everyone behind to hang out and dry, and it's not just me. You could have waited for us. You could have asked us. You could have at least _talked_to us but you decided to jump right in by yourself. You made up your mind that only you were going to save Inoue—"

"—no, that's not it." Ichigo interrupted, rising from his bed.

"Well guess what? You got your wish."

She told him everything. She detailed out Urahara's plan, repeated Ukitake's words verbatim, and if Ichigo had any lingering questions, she covered them all.

"So that's that." Rukia concluded. "All you have to do is wait and the Key will be handed over to you."

"Why?" Ichigo cut her off.

" 'Why' what?"

"Why is Urahara-san…why is everyone doing this?" Ichigo walked over to her only to be stopped by his jailbars.

At that, Rukia lost her temper.

Sliding a fist through the open spaces, she socked him right on the mouth. Suppressing a wince as she felt her knuckles squish against his lips and drag across his teeth, she watched as he stumbled back and fell to the ground.

"_Why_?" Rukia furiously repeated. "You honestly don't get why everyone's doing this for you? Why Sado, Ishida, Renji, and me chose to back out and let you do this on your own? You're not the only one who thinks it's their fault Inoue died, Ichigo! You're not the only one who's depressed that she's gone and you're not the only one who wants her back! We want to save her just as much as you do."

"I…know…" Blood dribbled from Ichigo's mouth.

"Then stop acting like you have to bear the burden all by yourself. Depend on us once in a while, dumbass. That's what friends are for, aren't they?"

Ichigo said nothing, preferring to stare at the floor. The taste of iron ran along his gumline and his lip felt like someone had lit a match to it.

"Up until this point, I couldn't understand you." Rukia shook her head. "After what you did, I kept trying to figure out why you were acting this way. It's normal to be upset when a friend dies but you...this was different for you. Then I started thinking. What if you had lost more than the rest of us that day? Then everything clicked." She stopped and glanced at Ichigo's shadowed form. "Inoue meant a whole lot more than a friend to you, didn't she?"

But to Rukia's fury, there was only silence. Springing to her feet, she knocked her chair over then kicked it aside.

"Why else would you pull off something so stupid as demanding the Royal Key from Yamamoto-sotaichou in front of everyone?" Rukia demanded. "Why else would you use—and let's face it, Ichigo, it _wasn't_ an accident—your hollow powers to win against that Espada? Why else would you promise to Inoue that you'd protect her?"

"_Don't._" Ichigo said in a dangerous voice.

"Beating yourself up about making a promise you couldn't keep isn't going to do you any good." Rukia snapped. "Don't get stuck in the past. The only thing you can do is keep moving forward and you can start by doing as Urahara tells you to do."

"Rukia, stop."

"Why are you hesitating?"

"You don't get it." Ichigo rose from the ground. Slowly, he raised his head and when their eyes finally met, she realized at last that this was not the same Ichigo she had befriended on that autumn night so very long ago. His willpower, that stubbornness of his that he was so famous for, had been sapped out of him by grief. His very aura seemed to mimic it: black, dreary, and dull. He was angry, he was frustrated, and as Rukia could see, desperate for a way to punish himself.

"Grimmjow was right."

"What?"

"Grimmjow..." Ichigo clenched his hands. "...asked me why, the second I saw Inoue, I didn't take her and run for it. If I'd have done that, if I had just thought it out, she wouldn't have had to watch me fight him or even Ulquiorra. She wouldn't have seen that _thing_ in the first place." He struck his chest in full blame. "She thought it was her fault that I turned out that way but it wasn't and I never...I never got a chance to tell her that."

Rukia paled.

"She was trying to save me_._" Ichigo's voice cracked. "She was trying to get rid of Hogyoku so I wouldn't turn back into that hollow to finish Aizen off. She didn't have to do that. She wasn't supposed to…" Abruptly, he turned away.

"If you feel so responsible then go." Rukia gazed through the bars. "Go to the Royal Realm."

At a loss for words, Ichigo wearily leaned his forehead against his hand. With an obvious effort to pull himself together, he asked, "But what about you? Chad, Ishida, and Renji?"

"Look," Rukia pressed the top of her head against the cool metal, "this fight is obviously more yours than ours. That's why we agreed to step back. It sucks," she added bitterly, "but we're willing to do it. So go. Fight like you've never fought before. Do better than the crap stunts you pulled in Hueco Mundo."

She angled her head to the side, hearing footsteps approaching her. Knowing her time had come to an end, she straightened her back and bent down to put the chair upright again when Ichigo's hand glided through the bars to catch her wrist.

"Rukia, I…"

"Save it." All trace of anger was gone from her voice. "Just do one thing for me. No matter what happens, come back alive. Come back with Inoue."

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.oO*Oo.

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Out of anyone else in Soul Society and the living world, Yoruichi thought herself the only person who truly knew how to unscrew the workings of Urahara Kisuke. At least that's what she believed until he came up with this latest project of his. Yes, Kisuke had always like pushing limits and had a taste for danger but even _she_ thought this was going a little out of hand. She even told him so.

"Kukaku was right, you know." Yoruichi remarked as they slipped back into the Shiba Manor.

For several nights, they had slinked around Seireitei and the Rukongai with one of Urahara's new inventions to pinpoint an exact location for the Key. The size of an old-fashioned pocket watch, Urahara had unveiled his creation to her, describing it as a sort of detector that scanned for highly compressed spirit particles which was the essential feature in finding what they wanted. The Key, he explained, was created using reiatsu which had been condensed then stabilized to form a particular shape and structure.

"When the _hell_did you come up with that?" Yoruichi had demanded when Urahara showed her.

"Two weeks ago." Urahara replied.

"_Two weeks_? You planned this whole thing that far along?" Yoruichi was flabbergasted and that was saying something considering she was not a person who was surprised easily. But that was just the tip of iceberg. Urahara was hiding something from her, she knew it. The extent of his premeditation practically screamed that something was up.

"Right about what?" Urahara wiggled out of his balaclava then smoothed out his pale blond hair. Taking a long stretch for his back, he yawned then started to unclasp his black cloak.

"This whole thing being stupid." Yoruichi pulled down the wide collar of her shirt.

"You disapprove?" Urahara smiled at her.

"Kisuke, enough with this. It'd be easier…a lot easier…if we just called the whole thing off."

The smile slid off Urahara's face. "I can't do that."

"I know why you're doing this." Yoruichi turned to face him. "You feel guilty for what happened. That's why you're willing to indulge Ichigo and risk all this just so you can cancel out everything. What's done is done, Kisuke. It's not your fault Orihime died."

"If I hadn't made Hogyoku, that could have been avoided." Urahara quietly answered her. "What happened to the Vaizards, Kuchiki almost getting executed, the war. Everything."

"Aizen was the one who was responsible for all that, not you."

"Really? You think so?" Ukitake lowered his gaze. "Things aren't as black and white as you make them out to be, Yoruichi. He and I weren't that different. We had similar ambitions...the drive for knowledge...disregard for the consequences of others. We were only two sides of the same coin."

"You can think of it that way." Yoruichi shrugged. "But your actions say otherwise. You threw away your captaincy to save the Vaizards and tried to destroy Hogyoku once you realized how dangerous it was. Sure you made a few slip ups here and there but who doesn't make mistakes? No one's perfect Kisuke."

"Yet you understand, don't you?" murmured Urahara. "Why I need to do this?"

Yoruichi folded her arms across her chest. "That's what confuses me. I thought you told Ichigo you couldn't help him but you've been working on the device for two weeks. The timing doesn't make any sense. Why didn't you go to him first? Why did you lie?"

"I didn't lie."

"Then?"

There was a weighted pause.

"I wasn't sure if he wanted to."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I needed to make Kurosaki-san understand how dire the situation was and also…I wanted to see for myself if he was willing to take the risk in saving his friend."

"You were testing him?" There was a note of mild reproach in Yoruichi's tone. "Was that really necessary? You saw how he was when Yamamoto-sotaichou told him not to go to Hueco Mundo. He was obviously willing to risk his life then so why wouldn't he now?"

"That was Hueco Mundo, this is the Royal Realm. The chances for failure and death are exponentially higher." Urahara turned to her with a grim expression. "And let's be honest. When it comes to friends and lovers, one would do far more for the latter than the former. Breaking into Heaven and fighting all of Hell requires that sort of determination."

"_Heh_." Yoruichi cattily grinned. "Since when were you this philosophical about relationships, Kisuke?"

"Eh…no…" Urahara said sheepishly. "I just needed to make sure I had the right person for this mission that's all."

"Sure."

"No, really."

"Uh huh."

"I'm serious!"

"Oh ho, I see what this is." Yoruichi relentlessly teased. "You're just playing matchmaker aren't you?"

"_Yoruichi._ This is a very grave situation, you shouldn't even be joking. It's so inappropriate!"

"Ah? Since when do you get to lecture me about being 'inappropriate'?" ...


	7. An Eagle Flies

The appointed day had arrived.

Claiming Ichigo and his friends wished to pay their last respects to Orihime, Ukitake managed to delay the Senkai Gate to open in the evening so as to give the Ryoka time to say goodbye. This, of course, was not a total lie. All three wanted very much to visit Orihime although not quite for that reason. Though they had been initially opposed to the whole idea, Ishida and Sado took Ukitake's orders to heart and went about their preparations to leave Soul Society as though nothing was wrong.

As for Ichigo, he spent the entire morning and afternoon pacing in his holding cell because that was all one could do in a six-by-eight block of space. Too nervous to have an appetite, he turned away his meals, much to his jailers' confusion. Time after time he looked to his window, agonizingly waiting for the sky to darken.

Rukia's visit had done more than give him a slap back to reality and a swollen lip. It had reinvigorated him somehow, refueling him with a sense of drive and purpose. He was surprised—no, more like astounded—when he found out he would be the only one going into the Royal Realm. The fact made him feel more isolated than he already was and he knew he would sorely lack the comforts of a reliable company. From what Rukia said, it sounded as though all he could take was Zangetsu and the clothes on his back.

But what was he going to do when he got there?

Saving Orihime was the objective but he had no plan let alone a crummy strategy to guarantee a victory. Urahara and, though he hated to admit it, Ishida were the ones who were good with that sort of thing. So much time and energy had been invested in fabricating elaborate set ups and timed attacks all so that he could enter the Royal Realm then pass through Hell without interference from the Goteijusantai. But little thought seemed to have been given as to how to survive once he reached his destination and this was what bothered Ichigo the most.

_How am I going to do this?_He slammed a fist against the wall of his prison.

When dusk finally fell and the welcome jingle of keys was heard, Ichigo was pushed out of his cell, locked into restraints then unceremoniously escorted out of the East Pavilion without so much as a _goodbye_ or even a _get the hell out of here_ from his warden.

Outside, he met Ukitake, Sado, and Ishida along with half of the Thirteenth Division. But Rukia and Renji were nowhere to be found. Confused, he questioningly looked at Ukitake who offered no explanation.

"Kurosaki." Ishida's lips tightened into a single line. To say he was pleased to see Ichigo was not only an understatement but a downright lie. Sado merely inclined his head forward.

To the far right of him, a nervous-looking boy held a sheathed Zangetsu in his hands close to his chest as though it were a newborn babe. By the markings on the badge tied to his right arm, Ichigo read _eighteen, Thirteenth Division_.

"You'll be first taken to Inoue Orihime's crypt." Ukitake informed Ichigo in an unusually sober voice. "Afterward, you are to be led directly to the Senkai Gate. There, you will be stripped of your badge and your zanpakuto is to be broken. Then you are to formally swear that you will not attempt to utilize your shinigami powers in the living world under any circumstances. Is that clear?"

"Fine." It was all Ichigo could say to not give himself away.

"Seireitei will not accept anything less than total surrender from you." Ukitake threatened in a tone worthy of Yamamoto himself. "Do you understand?"

"…yeah."

Satisfied, Ukitake signaled his squad members to move.

The procession was as quiet and somber as a funeral cortege. Not even the unnumbered seats dared to make conversation with each other or their captain. In that same vein, Ishida and Sado made no attempt to talk to Ichigo or even so much as look in his direction. At first, he was a little insulted by behavior until he realized they too must have been avoiding contact with him for fear of being unmasked.

Once they reached the mausoleum, the entourage paused at the crypt entrance and after receiving a nod from Ukitake, a pair of guards took Ichigo by the shoulders then shoved him forward.

"Get moving." The sentry to his left coldly ordered.

"Don't be so difficult, Kurosaki." Ishida patronized when he saw Ichigo scowl. "You should be grateful that they let us even do this so don't whine every time you feel you aren't being treated properly."

It took all the willpower Ichigo had to keep from hurling a well-aimed insult at Ishida. Feeling a venomous glare would suffice while internally swearing he would get back at the Quincy later, he turned back around. Almost immediately, the sight of the crypt negated all emotion within him. Under the moonlight, the stone doors loomed above him like an ominous black shadow. It had been weeks since he had set foot anywhere near here and it was only now did he realize that he had never set flowers on Orihime's grave. Falling silent, he lowered his head so no one could see how bent his face was.

Then to his utter surprise, a nosegay of forget-me-nots was shoved right under his nose.

"Take it." Ishida offered in a rather ungracious voice.

"Ishida…" Ichigo stared.

"Go on, take it." Ishida thrust the flowers at him. "Make sure you thank Kuchiki-san later. She's the one who bought it—and don't look at me like that!" He snapped when he saw Ichigo's grateful expression. Embarrassed, he turned on his heel and strode back to his position in a huff.

"Move." The guard nudged Ichigo forward with his cluster of blooms as they slipped through the vault's cavernous entrance.

It was as exactly as he remembered: cold, dark, profoundly silent. When he reached the east end, his guards fell back a few feet so as to give him some privacy. Hands locked in chains, he walked over to Orihime's resting place then knelt at the alabaster base like a penitent knight.

At his feet were wilted bouquets and other tokens that had been laid previously by dozens of mourners. No doubt Rukia, Sado, Renji, and Ishida had been here before. There was also a pretty glass wreath of flowers from Matsumoto, remembrance notes from a few members of the Eleventh Squad, and a bundle of exquisite camellias left by Urahara.

"Do you mind," Ichigo turned to his guards, "if you could give me a minute?"

"Now see here—" One of them started to refuse when his partner placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

"It's only a minute, it can't hurt." Ichigo heard the other say. Grudgingly, the guard and his fellow seat retreated even further but continued to keep their eyes on their prisoner's back. There was no telling what this no account substitute-shinigami would do and they certainly didn't want to take any chances with him.

When Ichigo at last felt their presences subside, he placed his forget-me-nots on top of the sarcophagus then knelt back down.

He had no idea what to say.

An apology seemed like an obvious thing to do. Why was it that every time he spoke to Orihime nowadays, he was always saying sorry? Sorry for making her worry. Sorry for being weak. Sorry for scaring her. Sorry for not making it in time. For a moment, he wondered whether it really mattered if he talked at all. The coffin before him contained nothing but a withered body. It was not _her,_ not by any stretch of imagination.

"I don't know if you can hear me." Ichigo said, hearing his voice echo all around him. "But if you do, I need you to hold on for just a little while…"

The rest of the sentence never made it past his throat. Swallowing hard, he tried to give one of his determined grins but failed. This place hardly seemed right to do such a thing anyway.

"…hold on until I get there."

His hand tightened into a ball.

"…Inoue…"

He bowed his head, hoping against all doubt that this prayer could cross the vast distance that stood between them.

Then as though God himself had answered, there was a loud crash followed by the sound of what had to have been an explosion.

In an instant, Ichigo sprang to his feet, accidentally knocking away Matsumoto's wreath. The fragile thing bounced once on the ground before the delicate pattern of strings broke apart, scattering glass beads everywhere. The sound they made as they plinked and tapped along the granite floor reverberated throughout the crypt with a kind of eerie finality.

"What the—what—what—?" His guards looked baffled as to what was going on. A sudden scream made them both jump. Panicked, the pair rushed outside to check on the others outside although one of them had enough sense to bark at Ichigo to stay where he was.

They ran off, not even casting a stray thought to the possibility that their ward was in on this. That he knew_exactly_what was happening, that this was no ordinary ambush and five minutes from now, he would escape with the assistance of a renegade captain.

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.oO*Oo.

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"You're sure, right?"

Kyoraku murmured in the shadows. Flattening himself behind the blackened wall of some niche, his eyes flitted over to Urahara's and Yoruichi's dark silhouettes. At their insistence, he had changed out of his regular uniform in favor of a somber black garb. A balaclava covered most of his face from view though the fabric was so coarse that he had to restrain from scratching at it.

"It has to be. The Rukongai and the First Division's pavilion didn't have any trace of the reiatsu I was looking for." Urahara whispered back. He glanced at the night sky, waiting for cloud cover from the moon.

"The copy's with you?" Yoruichi nudged him.

To answer her question, Urahara slid a hand deep into one of his pockets and withdrew a gaudy gold key.

"You could've tried to make it look a bit more real." Kyoraku was dismal in his criticism.

"I don't know what the actual Key is like. I was too far away when Aizen made his so I never got a good look at it." Urahara shrugged.

"Kyoraku's right. It looks terrible." Yoruichi seconded.

"Why Yoruichi-san, I'm hurt," sniffed Urahara.

"Shut up, Kisuke."

Yoruichi scanned the long ivory gallery. Banners imprinted with the Royal Emblem and white streamers languidly flapped in the evening breeze. The imprisonment tower rose high from the ground, piercing the sight of the moon as a needle did through cloth. A few figures clothed and masked in sandy beige patrolled about, stopping every once in a while to quietly converse with each other then resume their walks.

"Four…eight…twelve…" Yoruichi counted. "I know there are two dozen more inside. How do you want to do this, Kisuke?"

"They're all yours." Urahara courteously offered as he nodded towards the wandering sentinels.

Amusement flickered in Yoruichi's chromatic eyes. "Want to bet I can take them down before you get to finish your own set?"

"Whatever Yoruichi-san wishes." Urahara bowed with faint coquetry.

"See you on the other side." And with that, Yoruichi vanished.

Seconds later, the reverent quiet that pervaded the Shrine of Penitence broke. Men cried out, startled, as their swords swiped at nothing but empty air. A flying kick here, a maneuvered strike there, Yoruichi sped through the horde of guards like the wind, leaving them behind in the dust with bruises and shattered bones.

"Time to go." Urahara pressed his black cap deeply onto his head then as Yoruichi had done moments before, he hightailed out.

Closely following Urahara's movements, Kyoraku blitzed past the corridor then leapt into the sky to take full advantage of the cloud cover. He did not stop nor pause along the way even though shinigami were falling at his feet left and right. Pressing on, he darted in and out of the shadows until at last, he and Urahara reached the entrance to a fishing pavilion. An impluvium inlaid with the purest blocks of marble was set before the compound, creating a watery mirror to reflect the evening sky. There was no bridge but a series of stepping stones to serve as a walkway across the water.

"Keep out of sight as best you can." Urahara warned. Plunging a hand into his robes, a long gleaming blade emerged from the folds of black cloth.

"_Sing…Benihime."_

A scarlet wall of reiatsu blasted across the still waters and cut through the screen doors, tearing the wooden frames and rice paper apart. Splinters and dust burst up into the air as a third of the pavilion's roof collapsed at the impact and though the foundations quaked over the blast, they did not give out. Dozens of shrine soldiers fell back or were tossed into the frothing pool. Before any of them could gather their wits, Urahara hurtled inside.

"You…_you!_" One of the sentries pointed in recognition.

"Good evening." Urahara tipped his hat then with a casual grin, his hand shot out, breaking the guard's nose with the heel of his palm. Swerving to miss a flying dagger, he veered left then whipped around just in time to parry a sword strike with his own zanpakuto.

Pandemonium ensued.

Shocked and angered by the sudden attack, the guards scrambled around, all of them rushing towards Urahara without much thought other than to subdue him.

"Now!" Urahara ducked as a blade flew over his head. Rising, he turned to give a swift kick into his opponent's abdomen, sending him sailing clear across the main room. "Go in now!"

Wordlessly, Kyoraku launched himself in and before anyone could catch him, he was off, bursting through an endless series of bamboo and silk blinds. His sandals barely touched the floor as he whizzed from one spot to the next. It did not take him long to reach the altar and when he did, he was surprised by its untouched state despite the havoc Urahara had wreaked.

A magnificent limestone plinth uplifted the sacred space several feet from the pristine ground. Straw robe hung with prayers written upon pieces of parchment had been tied above the area to mark its inviolability and set upon stacked rows were hundreds of lit candles. As though they were magically controlled, the flames did not waver even at the slightest gust of wind. But for Kyoraku, this meant only one thing.

There was a barrier here, he was sure of it.

"Hope you didn't set this up yourself, Yama-jii. If you did, I'll have a hard time getting it down." Kyoraku muttered to himself as he pulled off his balaclava and gloves then stretched out his hands against the air. An inflexible substance met his touch and at the contact, the barrier crackled with energy and suddenly grew hot. Removing his fingers, Kyoraku turned them over to examine the scalded flesh.

"Huh…so that's it? Heat?" Retreating back his sleeve, he slapped his hand onto the protective shield then grinding his teeth down, he shut his eyes. An eerie blue glow illuminated his entire right arm, flowing out from his skin as he fast recited the incantation.

"_Deep are thy waters, ye who bears life and death within thy chalice. Upon the light of the stars, the fiery mask of sun, throw down thy raiment O tempestuous queen… swallow all creation with thy might…"_

Frost glazed over the barrier, forming an odd concave shape visible to the eye and once the ice solidified, Kyoraku unsheathed his sword. The barrier cracked and crumbled away as hard steel slammed against its surface and as if they too had sensed the oncoming destruction, the candles blew out in one clean sweep.

The smell of burned wick overwhelmed him as he climbed up the steps, spilling melted wax all over his shoes. It was here. It had to be. He smashed the centerpieces, toppled over candles, ripped through ropes, and it wasn't until he broke through the floorboards did he discover what he was searching for.

A tiny mahogany box lay deep within a dark recess. Thick layers of cobwebs had long settled upon it but underneath the dusty film, Kyoraku could make out a mother-of-pearl stamp of the Royal Emblem. Without thinking, he reached down.

"Ack—!"

Quickly, Kyoraku withdrew as white flames burst into life and lashed out at his hand when it made contact with the box. To his astonishment, the flames evaporated, leaving no mark behind as soon as he let go. After a few more tries in touching the Key, he came to the grim conclusion that prolonged holding would most likely envelop the bearer in fire. He could only _imagine_ the horrific possibilities that could happen if the box was to be opened. But something had to be done. He couldn't afford to just stand here like a fool doing absolutely nothing.

He lowered his hand into the hole.

"_Bakudo Seventy Four…Sphere of Contrition."_

An opaque orb of light formed over his hand, entrapping the blazing box and limb altogether. Grunting, he staggered then leaned a free arm against the wall as he steeled himself to withstand the scorching heat.

Beads of sweat formed along his forehead while his pallor went from grimacing red to sickly white. His fingers were awash in flames but being a captain who had experienced far more grievous injuries during his time with the Goteijusantai, Kyoraku forced himself to stoically bear the pain. The fire burned along his skin yet the kido spell sufficiently contained it from consuming his entire body.

At least, for now.

Outside, he could hear squad leaders screaming furiously at their subordinates amid the ongoing rampage.

"AFTER THEM!"

"Disengage your weapons—"

"THERE! They were just there!"

"—_disengage immediately_—!"

Clamping down on his lips to suppress a groan, Kyoraku struggled to stand upright then gripping his sword with his left hand, he disappeared into the dark.

Time was running out.

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.oO*Oo.

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Wind screeched in Yoruichi's ears as she sprang from one rooftop to another with such lightness and ease that if one attempted to glimpse her form, they would have seen nothing but the slightest pass of a shadow.

The Goddess of Flash, as far as Yoruichi was concerned, hadn't lost her touch. Hundreds of years later, few if any, could keep up with her.

"Go any slower, a snail's bound to outrun you, Kisuke." Yoruichi chided, not even bothering to look behind her.

"My apologies," murmured Urahara.

"Are they still following us?"

Urahara glanced backwards to see a swarm of shinigami trailing him, most with their swords drawn out. Their blades gleamed and flashed under the cold moonlight. Had it not been for the sound of the wind, Urahara would have heard their roars of outrage more clearly.

"It appears they are." Urahara turned around.

"Persistent bugs, eh?" Yoruichi smiled as a cool rush of air breezed through her dark purple hair. "Give them another reason to fly even faster."

"Why certainly." Urahara raised his hand high in the air then slipping the keyhole onto his index finger, he twirled it around, making sure it was clear and visible to the death gods running after him.

"Oiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, catch me if you can! Or I'll use this Royal Key to destroy all of Seireitei because I am just _that_evil and crazy!" Urahara's voice rang out into the night. "Come on, hurry up! Villains have a very busy schedule, you know!"

"_Kisuke._"

"Yes?"

"Sound a little more convincing than that."

"Really? I thought I was doing a good job. Look, they're even madder than before." Urahara jabbed a thumb over his shoulder as he and Yoruichi sped on. Indeed, many of the shinigami had redoubled their speed and from their expressions alone, it was clear that they were dead set on capturing him and the former head of the Shihoin clan.

At the last second, Yoruichi switched direction, going east instead of north.

"By the way…"

"Mm?"

"Did you feel Kyoraku's reiatsu before we left?"

"Ah." Urahara lowered his head, letting the brim of his cap slip down.

"You don't think…?"

"No." Urahara was firm in his conviction. "I'm guessing he had a tough time breaking through the barrier. That's probably why we felt his reiatsu spike up and down like that."

"You should have stayed with him."

"He's a captain of the Goteijusantai." Urahara simply replied. "Give him a little faith."

"Point taken." Yoruichi nodded, never stopping in her lightning fast strides. "I just hope he makes it to your shop, that's all."

"He will and speaking of which…" Urahara pointed up ahead.

Just in the nick of time, doors materialized in the sky and at the pair's approach, the first of the screens slid open along with the second to reveal a bright and open space.

"Remind me to thank Tessai when we get back." Yoruichi called out as she jumped headlong into the light.

"But of course." Urahara flew in after her, sparing the briefest of glances to the shinigami far behind him.

Though quite a distance away, he could still hear their yells of shock and see their dumbfounded expressions. Then just before the doors glided to a final close, he looked down to Seireitei one last time and muttered his farewell.

"Good luck Kurosaki-san."

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_"Attention all Squads….emergency situation located within the northwest perimeter of the Shrine of Penitence. Reinforcements urgently needed. Intruders, identified to be Urahara Kisuke and Shihoin Yoruichi, have been sighted and are heading towards eastern section of Rukongai. Request for Fourth Squad to respond immediately…casualties are high, I repeat, request for Fourth Squad to respond immediately…"_

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_It's happening, _Rukia thought with dread as she lay in her bed.

Nervously, she rolled around in her blankets and let her gaze wander at the shadowed shapes of her bedroom furniture. It was distant but she could still hear it.

The alarm.

She knew why Byakuya had forbidden her to join the rest of her division to escort Ichigo out of Seireitei tonight. Although he had spoken in the same brusque manner he used with his own subordinates in the Sixth Squad, the deep concern in his eyes was palpable, at least to her.

_"_I want you to retire early this evening so we may start your training first thing in the morning." He had said. "Ukitake tells me your shunpo is still lacking."

Only the head of the Kuchiki house could make such a blatant lie sound so elegantly insulting. Even though she knew very well Ukitake had said no such thing, it had taken everything she had for her to be able to bow her head and submit to her brother's wishes.

Rukia gripped at her sheets.

A million different scenarios riveted her brain. Right now, Byakuya was at the barracks and probably taking Renji with him to investigate the scene. At this very moment, Ichigo could be battling dozens, maybe hundreds of shinigami. Urahara, Yoruichi, and Kyoraku were probably doing the same. What if they were overwhelmed? What if one of them was…

…no.

No, that was impossible.

After all, Rukia had to remind herself, all four were matchless in strength. They could handle this. They had gone through crises before and why was this one any different? Fighting to regain equanimity, she exhaled a weighty sigh then lifted her large blue eyes to the wooden beams of her ceiling.

_Ichigo…_

Rukia folded her hands, interlocking her fingers in an attitude of a prayer.

…_you better win this time around._


	8. To Walk On Wings

"_Guh….!"_

"Please! No—!"

"Kyoraku-taichou—ah—!"

"—why are you doing this—"

Unnumbered and ranked seats cried out as the Eighth Division's captain made his way through, swiftly knocking them aside as though they were no more than leaves to a tree. He slashed at the sentries, aiming for their arms and legs instead of their chest so as to avoid instant fatalities. Killing, after all, had never been part of the plan.

Kyoraku struggled to keep in rhythm. His flash steps had considerably slowed and not quite as good with one arm, he had trouble wielding his zanpakuto as it cut through line after line of death gods whose strengths were no match to his own even at this state.

"Kyoraku!"

A familiar blade crossed his and when Kyoraku whirled around, he saw Ukitake's pallid face emerge from the dark.

"Ukitake-taichou!" yelled Sentaro, drawing out his zanpakuto to come to the aid of his captain when Ukitake flung out his hand.

"Stay where you are!"

"But—tai—taichou—!"

"Stay where you are, Sentaro, that's an order." Ukitake repeated peremptorily, eyes on Kyoraku alone. "You too, Kiyone. Don't let the Quincy and the human out of sight, is that clear?"

"Yes…" Kiyone whispered, frightened by Ukitake's tone as she had never so much as heard him raise his voice let alone give a stern command.

Ukitake tightened the grip on his sword's hilt. This was an act, a dangerous charade that needed to be played and what better person to participate in this game than two friends who knew one another like the back of one's hand? Timing was everything. Positions crucial, expressions counted for believability. Capitalizing on Kiyone's and Sentaro's moment of distraction, Ukitake's eyes went over to the northwest side of the mausoleum then back again.

Lowering his gaze in understanding, Kyoraku pushed Ukitake back by his blade.

"Out of my way."

"What are you doing?" Ukitake demanded. Even Kyoraku was impressed to the extent of his acting as he had not seen Ukitake get this worked up since the day he declared his intention to leave Seireitei. Ishida and Sado stared on, stupefied into silence.

"I said get out of my way." Kyoraku repeated.

"You just interrupted the progress to the Gate and attacked my men without warning!" Ukitake shouted. "Explain yourself!"

Kyoraku vanished.

"What…" Ukitake stared at the spot where Kyoraku had just stood then suddenly he reappeared to the right. Eyes widening, Ukitake felt a swift stab just below his rib and just as he turned to glimpse Kyoraku's face, a voice whispered to him.

"…look out for Nanao-chan..."

Blood spurted from Ukitake's mouth. What little color he had left in his face drained away, leaving him starkly white then as his eyes rolled backward, he fell to his knees and crumpled over, senseless.

"_Ukitake-taichou!_" Kiyone shrieked.

Sentaro's mouth fell open, aghast.

But Sado, quickly recovering from the shock, sprinted forward and lifted up Ukitake into his arms.

"Go! Get some help!" He turned to a hysterical Kiyone who was shaking from head-to-toe. Impatient, he looked to Sentaro. "Why are you just standing there? Can't you see he's bleeding out?"

"But Ukitake-taichou said…" Sentaro faltered, turning ashen.

"Does that even matter?" Sado was impatient. "Ishida and I aren't going to run off. What's more important is that your captain needs a doctor."

Ishida stayed rooted to the spot. He darted his eyes to Kyoraku who had already moved on from cutting down Ukitake seemingly with indifference. Instead, he waded through the crowded ground of fallen death gods then seeing what he wanted, he bent down and pried away Zangetsu from the arms of an unconscious eighteenth seat.

Ignoring Kiyone's and Sentaro's ceaseless cries for Ukitake to hold on, Kyoraku rushed through the double doors of the burial vault and as he searched among all the sealed tombs, he spotted a tall figure in black at the east end.

"Been a while, hasn't it, Ichigo-kun?"

Ichigo staggered back as Kyoraku briskly walked over to him. "Kyoraku-san…?"

"Hold out your hands."

"What?"

"I've got to release you so hold out your hands."

Utterly bemused, Ichigo did as he was told and less than a second later, his wrists were freed from their bonds once Kyoraku negated the kido spell.

"Here, take it." Kyoraku threw Zangetsu to Ichigo.

"Wait, what's wrong with you?" Ichigo asked, catching the sword. The lighting was poor but he could still see Kyoraku's face and was surprised to see how grey and worn it had become. When his eye fell to the object in Kyoraku's hand, his expression turned from concern to horror.

"Don't worry about it." Kyoraku shook his head. "It's just something to keep the fire at bay. Now listen, we've only got a couple minutes, probably even less than that and what I'm about to tell you is extremely important. You have to follow my instructions _exactly_as I tell you, got it?"

When Ichigo nodded to show he understood, Kyoraku went on, struggling to talk through his pain.

"The alarm's been set off so most of the Squads are going to start coming in on this place. What I'm going to do is open the box first and release my barrier. When that happens, I need you to take the Key. It might burn you but you have to hold on tight to it, understand?"

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "But what's going to happen to you when the barrier's gone?"

"Never mind that." Kyoraku dismissed with a wave of his hand as though he were brushing away an irksome fly. "Now when you get the Key, you need to go up as high as you can."

"Up?"

"Yes, up. The higher, the better. The sky's the lock to the Key."

At a sudden noise, Kyoraku and Ichigo turned around but there was no one in the crypt. Then to his frustration, Kyoraku sensed another onslaught of shinigami headed straight his way and somewhere afar, he could hear the alarm signal going off again.

"Yes, they're coming." Kyoraku said, drawing Ichigo's attention back. "They'll probably be outside by the time we get out so just remember this—"

The sound of hundreds of running footsteps thundered outside.

"When you get to there—"

The ceiling shook above them.

"Don't let the Royal Guard see you."

Time was up.

"Let's go!"

Without a moment to lose, the two sped out then leaped up into the night sky. The hem of their pants fluttered in the wind then wrinkled as they gained more and more height. Beneath their feet, the mausoleum's stone courtyard shrank into a grey plot but the heavens above them seemed to stretch.

"Ukitake-san!" Ichigo shouted in alarm when he caught sight of Ukitake's unconscious form.

"Leave him."

"But—!"

"He'll be fine. Leave him." Kyoraku rose even higher from where he was to grip Ichigo's shoulder with a free hand.

"What happened?" demanded Ichigo.

"He'll be fine." Kyoraku repeated. "Just keep going, we don't have any more time. They're already here."

A full moon peeked out from wisps of slate blue clouds, letting its feeble light filter downward to a tumultuous Seireitei as swarms of death-gods took up their pursuit to the heavens.

_Is there no end to them?_Kyoraku asked himself as he swiped his zanpakuto left and right, not even bothering to release into shikai form. Why waste energy transitioning to that state when all he needed was a few minutes, even seconds, of calm so as to get this whole thing in order.

He glanced to his left, seeing Ichigo successfully punch off a few stragglers and send them trailing back down to earth.

"Get ready!" Kyoraku called out, signaling Ichigo. Pushing himself forward, he raised his barricaded hand then biting down on his lip, he fumbled the box open.

A thousand things seemed to happen in a single second.

The spell broke, unleashing an agony that Kyoraku had never felt before as he held the golden three-pronged Key. Tormented by the fire which seemed to have grown ten times hotter than before, he blindly threw the wretched thing out into the open sky, not having enough sense for a good aim.

"Kyoraku-san!" Ichigo bellowed.

Kyoraku felt himself tumbling downward, gradually losing consciousness along the way. What had Urahara said...? What time was his gate supposed to open? Was it now? Was it a minute later? Two? He couldn't remember.

The Key spun along the night, revolving in time as gravity began to pull it downward until Ichigo lunged forward and seized it with his outstretched fingers. Fighting back the impulse to drop it as it grew hot in his hold, he twisted his head around to see Kyoraku falling into a vortex of white light.

"Go!" Kyoraku tried to shout. "Go!"

Reassuring himself that Kyoraku knew what he was doing, Ichigo rocketed upwards, going higher and higher until he reached the stratosphere. A fever broke along his spine as he dashed through grey vapors and the air around him thinned. His lungs burned with exhaustion in an effort to gather oxygen.

All this for a mere key, to a doorway that generations of human beings had prayed, waged war, and sought for with such zeal and obsession. A titanic amount of effort for so small a thing.

_Not so small_, Ichigo thought as he raised his wounded hand to the stars.

It was everything, this Key in his hand. More than personal salvation, a way to a divine throne, or access to Utopia itself. It was an opening to a person whom he thought was closed off to him forever.

This here, in his very grasp, was solid proof that death was not the final end but simply a passage to realms unseen. It didn't matter what code he trespassed, the laws he broke, and the personal limits he crossed to get to this point. For when one is in love, there is no thought of consequence or cost. There is only determination to overcome all obstacles, no matter how dire the circumstances.

And no sooner did the tip of the Key feel the chilly atmosphere, a brilliant ray of light ripped across the sky to form a radiant horizon followed by a sudden bang. As though a giant firework had exploded, it engulfed Ichigo in flame. With a will of its own, it pulled him further and further into its blank center, away from Seireitei. Shielding his eyes from the terrible brightness, he clutched Zangetsu to him as the light grew wider and wider around him, dulling out the sound of hundreds of death gods crying out in fear.

Then just as it appeared, the horizon lessened into a single white line then vanished, leaving an undisturbed starry night in its wake.

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.oO*Oo.

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Stumbling through the void, Kyoraku could barely keep a straight path and by the time he reached his destination, he was already half dead.

Collapsing at Tessai's feet, his face hit the sandy earth of Urahara's desert cavern, sending tiny pebbles and dust up around him. Ururu and Jinta, who had been standing near Tessai, jumped back in surprise.

"What the hell!" Jinta exclaimed, bewildered by Kyoraku's sudden appearance.

"Oh…" Ururu gasped. Her enormous blue eyes grew even wider when she saw that the strange man was in a great deal of pain.

"It's all right." Urahara strode forward then knelt down, his black robes fanning out around him on the dusty ground. "He's here, that's what matters."

"Boss, his hand." Tessai stared at the hideously disfigured limb.

"I know."

"What happened to him?" Yoruichi rushed to Kyoraku's side then stiffened when she caught sight of his injury.

"It must have been the Key." Urahara gingerly examined the blackened flesh. Wisps of acrid smoke still curled from the tips of Kyoraku's fingers. "Tessai, if you can start, now would be good."

"Right away, sir, right away." Tessai nodded, fully understanding what needed to be done. Gesturing at Ururu and Jinta to back away, he edged himself closer to Kyoraku's limp form then outstretching his hands, a green light bathed Kyoraku's arm. A stream of incantations flowed from Tessai's lips as his brows pinched together in concentration.

For what felt like a very long time, Urahara and Yoruichi stayed by Kyoraku's side as Tessai rigorously continued his treatment. They kept on anxious vigil, silently rallying Kyoraku on until at last, their efforts were rewarded when his eyes fluttered open.

"It's nice to have you grace us with your presence again, Kyoraku-taichou." Urahara greeted him with characteristic joviality. Yoruichi on the other hand was quite blunt.

"You're an idiot." She told him point-blank as she looked down. "You should've called for help when you needed it, you show-off."

Kyoraku managed a weak smile.

"So what happened? Did Ichigo go through?"

To the relief and satisfaction of everyone, Kyoraku nodded and seeing the pleased expressions on their faces, he smiled again and closed his eyes to fall back to sleep.

"Let him rest, Yoruichi-dono." Tessai advised when Yoruichi leaned forward to wake Kyoraku once more. "He needs it."

"What about his hand?"

Tessai tilted his head down, letting the light fall from his opaque glasses. "Whatever he was injured with, it's beyond my expertise. I don't think kido is enough for this."

"Should we get more help?" Yoruichi warily eyed Urahara.

"We can't." Urahara said, looking rather absorbed with Kyoraku's hand. "Contacting anyone from Soul Society is out of the question. We could try getting Hachigen but it's unlikely since we all need to be on the run soon. I'm assuming you packed up everything?" He turned to the children.

"Of course we did!" Jinta said indignantly as Ururu nodded. "We're not stupid, we know what to do!"

"Splendid. That means we can leave right on schedule."

"But what about Kyoraku?" asked Yoruichi.

"Simple, we just take him with us. He'll have to sleep most of the way." Urahara glanced at Tessai. "If kido's not helping, there's no way to contain the damage, is there?"

"I don't know." A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Tessai's face then disappeared into his princely mustache. "I may have to amputate his hand completely."

"Then do it."

Yoruichi, Jinta, and Ururu all were taken aback.

"If Inoue-san were still with us, I'm sure she could have healed this thing but since she isn't, we don't have any options." Urahara told them matter-of-factly. "Tessai…do whatever you have to do."

"Yes." Tessai murmured in acquiescence.

"When do you want to leave?" Yoruichi asked at length.

"Once Tessai's done."

"And where are we going?"

Urahara looked thoughtful for a moment. "How does Europe sound to you?"

"Eu...rope?" Jinta was puzzled and he wasn't the only one. Neither Ururu nor Yoruichi recognized the name.

"There are many different countries in the living world aside from this one. I hear Europe has a lot of beautiful places for one to travel in. But…" Urahara's face softened. "…we'll have to keep running for quite a while. We won't be able to stay in one location for too long."

"Fine." Yoruichi readily answered. "We've done that before, you and me. It's nothing I haven't been used to. You usually know how to get us out of trouble anyway and your plans, however insane they are, turn out as successes."

"I'm not sure if you can call it that." Urahara stared after Kyoraku.

"But you got Ichigo to the Royal Realm." Yoruichi reminded.

"I did." Urahara acknowledged. "Now the rest is up to Kurosaki-san. Let's hope all goes well for him..."

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.oO*Oo.

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Heaven.

Of all the things Ichigo could have imagined as to what it looked like, a ruined courtyard wasn't one of them. Lying flat on what must have been stony ground, he forced himself to turn sideways then with enormous difficulty, he opened his eyes. The light that filtered through his lashes was soft, not harsh, and the warmth on his face was gentle, not burning.

Slowly, he got up, wincing as he did so. Looking down, he saw that his left hand bore an eyesore of a burn and after a few experimental touches, he gave up on using it entirely. Using Zangetsu as a prop with his other hand, he stood up.

The sky above him was not an empty black but a splendorous canvas upon which millions upon millions of stars had been scattered.

A great palatial structure standing upon a white marble base stood high from the ruins. Lamps brightly burned over bronze vats of oil, illuminating the shingled rooftop and scarlet pillars that upheld an airy gallery. Adjacent to either side of this building were two majestic pavilions so alike in design and shape that it was as if one was the other's reflection. A wide staircase led up to what looked like the palace entrance and at the foot of these steps were a pair of magnificent dragon statues. Their scales glinted in the firelight as their necks craned to the sky, their celestial home.

But what should have been an awe-inspiring sight was marred by edificial damage.

The ground itself was impacted with spiderweb-like cracks, indicating something had collided on it with astounding force. Uprooted ornamental trees lay withered on the court and there were unmistakable signs of fire having taken place as the alabaster walkway bore hideous black marks. Not even the staircase had been spared as many of its steps were chipped.

"What the hell happened here…?"

In trepidation, Ichigo started to look for an exit but his search was cut short when he stumbled upon the remains of a shattered zanpakuto.

Ichigo's foot retreated from the broken blade. A singed hilt lay amongst the rubble and as soon as he picked it up, he dropped it as though it had scalded him. Shock rooted him to the spot. This was no ordinary sword. No, this was Kyoka Suigetsu—Aizen's zanpakuto—he was sure of it. But if this was Aizen's then that meant…

Ichigo gazed at the weapon.

Could it be? Had Aizen been defeated?

"…so this is the place then!"

He wheeled around.

A man and woman strode down the steps, flanked by a large entourage comprised of handmaidens dressed in gauzy white. The company followed the couple closely with handheld lanterns, stopping whenever they paused then going whenever they resumed walking.

The man, being the tallest of the group, was a good deal ahead of everyone as nobody seemed to be able to keep up with his long strides. His lacquered shoes clicked and clacked along the stairs and when a particularly strong breeze blew past him, his long purple cloak puffed out to reveal his pale blue trousers.

"Your Highness, please be careful!" A lady-in-waiting cautioned.

_Highness?_Ichigo's eyes widened. Had he any presence of mind, he would have run for it. Stunned by the Prince's appearance, he had completely forgotten Kyoraku's stern warning to hide himself as soon as he entered the Royal Realm. Instead, like a fool, he stayed put where he was though the Prince seemed far too engrossed in chastising his servants than notice the rogue shinigami standing in the middle of the outer court.

"I can take care of myself perfectly well, thank you! Didn't you say the Guard took care of that ingrate anyhow?" The Prince turned, affronted. "Why are all of you walking so slow?"

"My dear," the woman sounded slightly breathless, "please be patient."

"I t_old_you not to bring so many of your women!"

"You know the rules. They come and go whenever I do, it cannot be helped."

Even from a distance, Ichigo could see the finery and noble grace this woman exuded. Silver-threaded phoenixes glimmered against her azure jacket and beneath it, layers of colorful silk trailed behind her. Given the dignified manner with which she carried herself, he guessed she was royalty too, a princess perhaps. When she joined the Prince's side, they struck a grand impression together, looking as though they had stepped out of a picture scroll. Their splendor and beauty seemed too unreal to believe but there they were, standing and breathing like any other living being.

"Brother, I should be getting back."

"It's only a couple hours before dawn. I'm sure you'll make in time to your loom."

"You need to make haste as well."

"Weren't you curious at all? I'm a bit disappointed not to have seen the battle though." huffed the Prince.

"You know the Guard was only trying to keep us safe. They even said this man was particularly dangerous. I daresay he could have contended with Father had he been given the chance."

"Oh spare me such high ambition! As if that snotty ex-captain from the Goteijusantai could get away with something like that!" said the Prince in an imperious voice. ""I'm only sorry I didn't get a chance to give him a good wallop myself!"

"My dear Brother," interjected the Princess, "exercise some compassion towards the fallen."

"Sister, he _ruined_my zanpakuto! I spent so much time on Kyoka Suigetsu and look what he did with it! Look at this mess!" The Prince gestured to the blackened courtyard around him.

"It was a wonderful sword but you can make others that are far better and more beautiful than that one, I'm sure." The Princess said consolingly.

"You're right." The Prince sighed. "Still, I'd like to have the hilt at the very least for memory's sake. I know it's here, somewhere. One of the Guard told me so himself...ah…" He came to a stop. The Princess too, along with her entire entourage, turned to see what had caught the Prince's attention.

_Shit!_Ichigo cursed.

"It can't be," ogled the Prince, "why…it's a human!"

"_Ehhhh?_" Every single handmaiden's mouth fell open. In unison, their heads swiveled directly in Ichigo's direction and stared at him as though he were some ugly sea creature that had oozed itself into being. Before he knew it, they had scrambled over and encircled him, lifting up their lanterns to better examine his features.

"A human…? A real one?"

"That's what His Highness said."

"But how can that be possible? He's only a mortal!"

"What an unusual-looking boy!"

The only one who remained unaffected by Ichigo's sudden appearance was the Princess. Instead of joining in the mindless chatter of her servants, she simply swept her dark eyes over the newcomer. The expression on her face was unreadable but Ichigo had the distinct impression that she was scanning to see if he was friend or foe.

"No, not a human, Brother." The Princess observed at length. "His reiatsu is that of a death god."

"A shinigami?" The Prince gawked. "But he's so—so—tiny!"

"_Tiny_?" Ichigo snapped, breaking out of his trance. "I'm just as tall as you!"

At the outburst, all the ladies-in-the-waiting gasped. Clearly, none of them had expected the strange shinigami to talk back to the Prince much less _say_something_._

"And just _what_is with this color?" The Prince advanced and before Ichigo could stop him, he was already ruffling his hair. "It's so…Sister, look!" He excitedly pointed at Ichigo's head.

"Oi—get—off!" Ichigo stumbled back.

"My, my, just look at that zanpakuto!" A huge smile lit the Prince's face as he peered in the dark to see the two-toned sword. "Is that Zangetsu? It is isn't it? How long it's been! He seems to have grown up since the last time I saw him."

Ichigo was at a loss of words. This made no sense. How, _how_did this guy know about Zangetsu? And it wasn't just that. He spoke as though he were familiar with it, as if…as if he himself owned it before.

"You must be it's master, am I right?" The Prince beamed. "Well isn't this unexpected! I never realized he'd be paired up with such a strange little thing like you. I always thought he would have someone who was more…how should I put this…sophisticated."

An irritated vein popped into view on Ichigo's temple.

"Why so surprised?" The Prince said, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, but you're not the only one who knows all about Zangetsu! I should know. I made him. I am after all, the Fourth Prince, Master Swordsmith of Heaven."

But Ichigo never got the chance to reply to this extraordinary remark.

Instead, he flung himself to the right as a long blade took a swipe at him. In a flash, he unsheathed his sword from its wrappings but his opponent was already gone.

The Princess's handmaidens screamed, breaking their formation apart as they fled in the opposite direction. Ichigo's eyes roved to the left, right, up, down but the enemy was as unseen as the wind. The closest thing he could catch was the wink of their cutlass before it flashed then turned to strike him.

"Fuck—!"

Ichigo swung Zangetsu upward as something heavy crashed down upon him. A strong shockwave vibrated along the blade and without warning, it splintered then shattered.

A shivering silence seemed to follow as Ichigo watched on in horror as pieces of Zangetsu flew up in the air and fell around him like metallic rain. He could not move. He could not speak. The world seemed to have turned upside down on him. This couldn't be right, it just couldn't. His zanpakuto had _broken._Its power gone in a matter of split seconds. He didn't understand. Zangetsu had endured harder, longer fights and barely got scratched but here, it had snapped with one hit.

"_Is he—"_An unearthly voice hissed.

"—_an intruder."_Another replied.

"_The one who stole the Key."_

"_A danger—"_

"_A usurper—"_

Then before Ichigo could gather his wits together, reiatsu blasted out of nowhere, knocking him off his feet. Tumbling across the courtyard, his back slammed into a wall, causing the structure to crack and crumble. Dazed, he struggled to rise when something slapped on his throat and pushed him backward. Zangetsu's hilt slipped out of his hold and clattered to the ground.

"Wait—please—!" Ichigo gasped.

"_Heaven is not for the likes of you, thief."_

Panicked, Ichigo's eyes shot upward just in time to see the glittering white-hot head of a javelin rise above him then plunge down to hit his chest.


	9. Questioning Valor

"Stop!"

Quick as lightening, the Fourth Prince launched himself in front of Ichigo and caught the blade in his palm. Ichigo sat against the wall, confused out of his mind. He looked to the Fourth Prince for some sign as to why he had just saved him but the Prince had his back turned.

"What is the meaning of this?" With apparent ease, he pushed the sword back in a sweep of his long sleeve.

"Your Highness…"

At the intervention, several members of the Guard flashed into appearance and knelt before their sovereign.

As much as he dared, Ichigo drew his attention to the Royal Guard. Outwardly, they appeared no different than the shinigami in Soul Society but the similarity ended there. Even from a distance, he could sense that their bodies were mere shells barely suppressing auras that radiated a kind of magnetic energy, a level of power that seemed impossible to obtain let alone describe.

_Yeah…_Ichigo dismally concluded. _These guys are_definitely _the real deal..._

"Explain yourselves!" demanded the Fourth Prince.

"We were acting as Their Majesties commanded." One of the Guard said in defense. "We received word from the Goteijusantai that a mortal had stolen the Key from its protective location and entered the Palace grounds."

"That doesn't give you an excuse to attack without warning," the Fourth Prince threw a pointed finger at Ichigo. "You _broke_his sword—you pitted my creations against one another right in front of me!"

"And neither the Commander-General nor you have the right to judge who can and cannot enter here." The Princess spoke up, stepping forward to join her brother. Making her presence known, the Guard sank even lower to the ground.

"Second Princess…"

"If I recall, Their Majesties asked you only apprehend Aizen Sosuke. This boy," the Second Princess turned to Ichigo, "was never mentioned in the order with which you were given."

"My lady, we are the Royal Guard." said the leader of the troupe. "Our duty is to protect the Royal Family at all costs from any intruder, no matter how small a threat."

"I am well aware." The Second Princess quietly replied. "You do your 'duty' to Their Majesties with utmost diligence, guard. In fact, you conduct yourselves so well that you would even raise a sword to a boy without even asking why he is here and what his purpose is."

An awkward and uncomfortable silence followed.

"You have a name, don't you?" The Second Princess glanced behind her.

Ichigo was speechless. To be sure, he was grateful to the Fourth Prince and his regal sister for their interference but it did nothing to stifle his growing bewilderment at what just happened.

"Don't be so impertinent!" One of the Princess's ladies-in-waiting scolded. "Answer Her Highness when you are being spoken to!"

The remark was like a slap in the face. Lifting his eyes to the Princess's searching gaze, he relented.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

"And why are you here?"

It was a simple, fair, question. What could he say? He was here because he got involved in a war started by a man with crazed ambitions. He was here because in that war, someone close to him lost her life. He was here because several captains, who found his cause worthy, broke him out of prison and stole the Royal Key for him. Feeling none of this would sound right coming out of his mouth, he decided on the shortest answer.

"I need to save someone from Hell."

Every single handmaiden stared at Ichigo and even the Guard themselves raised their heads from the ground to look at him in incredulity.

"Why would you want to do that?" the Second Princess asked though from her tone, it was almost as if she knew what he was going to say. "You realize you are in the Royal Realm, do you not?"

"My lady, if we may speak." Someone from the Guard piped up but the Princess cocked her wrist at him to be silent.

"I…someone told me that Hell was in the same dimension as this place." Ichigo said though he felt like an idiot for revealing his uncertainty.

"That is correct." The Princess affirmed, much to his relief. "Where Soul Society has Hueco Mundo, Heaven has its Hell. I am sure that as a death god, you have noticed everything has an opposite to it. That there is a natural balance in all places."

Ichigo could only nod.

"Is it true that you stole the Royal Key?"

"Yeah but—"

"Is saving this person's life the reason that compelled you to take it?"

"Yes—"  
"Did you kill those who stood in your way?"

"_No._" Ichigo vehemently denied.

"He is lying." One of the Guard accused. "The Commander-General has reported to us there were many casualties in Seireitei."

"Did anyone die?" inquired the Second Princess.

"From what we heard, no." The Guard grudgingly admitted. "But he still attacked fellow death gods. He should be punished!"

"We advise you to send him back to whence he came, Your Highness." Another inputted.

"You are far too hasty in sentencing, Guard." The Princess's lashes lowered in genteel exasperation. "This boy would not have been driven to steal the Key had Seireitei followed the King's command properly. It was never meant to be locked and stowed away."

"Well none of the Commander-Generals listened to Father." The Fourth Prince frostily opined. "Especially Genryusai. That old prune takes things far too seriously for his own good."

"Your Highness." A lady-in-waiting called.

The Second Princess inclined her head to show that she was listening.

"It's dawn."

"Oh no…" The Fourth Prince looked dismayed at the sight of the graying sky. "Sister, go. I've kept you here long enough. I'll watch over the boy, if you want."

"They will want to interrogate him." The Second Princess gestured to the Royal Guard. "I'm still curious myself as to what his real intentions are. But you're right…I must return to my pavilion." She paused. "And I'd like him to be brought straightaway with me."

The Royal Guard was stunned.

"Your Highness—!"

"The matter is settled." Though the Princess did not raise her voice, a definite chill seemed to emanate from her.

"—my lady, we mean no disrespect—"

But the Princess had already moved on. Signaling her ladies-in-waiting, they dutifully encircled her once more. With a snap of her fingers, a pair of handmaidens stepped up and helped Ichigo stand on his feet.

"Ow!" Ichigo winced when his burned hand grazed against a lady-in-waiting's dress.

"You can walk, yes?" One of them asked.

"Yeah." Ichigo nodded, quickly regaining composure. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Come, come." The second handmaiden beckoned.

"But what about…" Ichigo faltered as he looked down at the broken Zangetsu.

"Don't worry about it." The Fourth Prince abruptly said, noticing Ichigo's concern. "I'll take a look at it. It's only fair, after all." Here, he threw a disapproving glare at the Royal Guard.

"And while my brother looks after your sword, you will stay at my residence for the time being." The Second Princess declared. "Our conversation is far from finished."

Striding past the dumbfounded Guard with Ichigo, she and her entourage went back in the direction they first came in. Climbing up the flight of stairs was no easy feat, especially when most of the company was comprised of women dressed in long skirts. It was amazing that none of them so much as tripped as they walked. By the time they reached the top, Ichigo was out of breath.

"Keep up with us or you'll be left behind!" A handmaiden scolded.

"_I'm trying._" Ichigo answered through gritted teeth.

"Hurry, hurry!"

They passed airy galleries, crossed exquisitely patterned courtyards, and flew down flights of stairs until at last they had reached the Inner Palace. Everywhere Ichigo looked, he was surrounded by breathtaking beauty. All around, the architecture was a testament of admirable construction. The gardens were magnificent, embellished with flowers, fruit trees, and sculptures.

But none of this was as radiant as the figure that approached him with frightening alacrity.

Squinting, Ichigo struggled to focus but it was almost impossible. A thousand lights seemed to hover around the stranger's form, winking and flashing him at every angle like cameras.

"You're late!"

"Sister, I do apologize…" the Second Princess began.

"Look! Look! Do you see that?"

Holding up his hand, Ichigo cracked an eye open. Aside from the Second Princess and himself, all the ladies-in-waiting were on their knees before a very tall and irate woman. Had it not been for the haughty expression on her face, Ichigo supposed she was beautiful what with her jewel-like eyes and white blond hair. A strange glow seemed to emit from her skin or perhaps it was a trick of the light playing against her golden robes.

"Dawn." She glared at the Second Princess. "I sent all my servants out looking for you."

"I was inspecting the damages with Fourth Brother." The Second Princess apologized.

"And fraternizing with lowly humans again!" The blonde woman swept over and in less than a second, Ichigo found himself standing eye-to-eye with her. "How did such a thing get into the Royal Realm?"

Patiently, the Second Princess regaled the relevant information to her older sister.

"A pathetic excuse if I ever heard of one." Her prismatic eyes narrowed in dislike when she caught sight of Ichigo. "Have you no respect for the First Princess, eldest of Their Majesties' children? How dare you stand before me!"

"Sister." The Second Princess called but the First Princess paid no attention.

"Kneel!" commanded the First Princess.

A ripple of anger passed through Ichigo. _Kneel? _What the hell for?

"I said kneel." The First Princess repeated as though he were no more than a dog.

"If you wish me to ready the skies for your arrival, you must let us leave." The Second Princess interjected before Ichigo could open his mouth and say a few choice words.

"Wait a moment." The First Princess reached over and cupped Ichigo's chin. Her hand was as cold as ice but he did not flinch let alone move the slightest muscle. He didn't want to give this witch the satisfaction of knowing she easily got under his skin.

"Ah…" she said at last, a flicker of recognition lighting her glittering irises.

Ichigo jerked his chin away.

"You." The First Princess's eyes never left his face. "I know you."

"No, you don't." Ichigo snapped, growing truly irritated.

"Don't I now?" smirked the First Princess. "It seems you have yet another desperate asking for help in destroying himself, my little sister. I hope you won't sacrifice him so soon. At least give the poor boy a chance to escape here alive while he can."

Without replying, the Second Princess motioned Ichigo to follow her while the rest of her company rose and ushered themselves away.

"This one won't last long!" The First Princess started laughing. The high pitch of her voice rang throughout the palace grounds and seemed to go on forever even when Ichigo and the others entered the west wing.

"Who was that?" Ichigo demanded.

"My elder sister." The Second Princess explained with a touch of regret in her voice. "Forgive her temperament. She quite lives up to the role she was born into."

"Role?"

The Second Princess paused. "She is the sun. The day is her realm and nothing can be hidden from her sight during that time. That is how she knows you. She has seen you before."

"_What?"_

"My sister, the First Princess, governs the sun. She commands its rise and fall every season. My eldest brother the First Prince guards the moon and its movement at night." When she saw the befuddled look on Ichigo's face, she added, "It is their duty as mine is to the sky."

By this point, Ichigo's brows had shot up to his hairline.

At his confusion, the Second Princess smiled. "Perhaps, it would be easier to show rather than tell." She gestured him to look straight ahead.

Greeting Ichigo's sight was none other than a grand imperial structure fashioned entirely out of ebony. Silver lacquered designs trailed around its numerous pillars and the stairway that led to its magnificent entrance was made of luminous white marble. Without so much as an awestruck pause to admire its beauty, the Second Princess and her ladies ascended.

The first room Ichigo entered was a hard one to describe.

Millions of delicate glass lamps hung from the blackened ceiling, creating an illusion of stars hanging aloft a night sky. A series of pillars rose to form a single path that led to an intricately wrought silver panel. Following the Princess's lead, he accompanied her as she walked toward the panel and threw it open to reveal another room behind it.

A vast circular pool lay at her feet and just beyond this curious structure was a magnificent loom. The frame was not made of wood but white gold and boasted a great number of heddles suspended atop the shaft. But what drew Ichigo's attention was the unfinished tapestry on the loom.

At first glance it appeared to be colorless silk but on closer inspection, he realized the threads were vaporous. Amazed, he reached out to touch the cloth. The warps and wefts were invisible to the naked eye yet the fabric felt like cloud. It seemed to move against his fingertips, softly caressing the callused pads with its airy texture.

"What is this?" Ichigo turned to the Second Princess for an explanation.

But all he got was an enigmatic smile.

Clapping her hands, all the ladies-in-waiting scattered in different directions. Two of them bade Ichigo to sit, producing a seat cushion for his comfort. Linen bandages and an assortment of glass jars were brought next before the ladies set to work on his burned hand. The others drifted outside and came back a few moments later, carrying bundles of what looked like fat grey clouds then set them near the Princess's feet.

By observation alone, Ichigo could tell this was a routine that had been done so many times that it had become second nature to these women.

Pulling back her elaborate sleeves, the Second Princess eased herself before the loom then set her foot upon the treadles.

Mute and fascinated, Ichigo watched her, growing oblivious to the handmaidens applying salve to his scorched skin. With the concentration of an accomplished pianist, the Princess moved the reed in time as she guided the shuttle across her loom. In quick and efficient fashion, she bent her head down over her work, letting her black hair gleam against lamplight.

"My sister," the Second Princess began, never taking her eyes away from the threads, "does not take kindly to humans. If anything, she is the least sympathetic towards your kind. It is a pity, for one who holds such a high position to have such hateful views on her subjects."

Ichigo shifted in his seat then glanced down at his hand, noticing it had been cleaned and bandaged during his conversation.

He looked up to see the Second princess putting the finishing touches on her tapestry before it was taken down. In wonderment, his eyes followed the ladies-in-waiting as they carried the vast cloth out then spread it over the circular pool.

The water lapped against the sides then as the cloth sank, the color transformed from clear to pearly grey. Once this was done, the Princess tiredly waved at her maidens to disperse and this time they came back with armfuls of pinky vapor.

The Second Princess laid her white hand on the smooth edge of the reed, fingering its comb-like structure in silence until she ventured to ask a rather strange question.

"Tell me, shinigami," she murmured, "do you hate being what you are?"

When Ichigo didn't answer, she went on.

"Do not be under the impression that I enjoy doing this." She gestured to her work. "I hate it as much as you hate the Commander-General for barring you and yes, my Brother and I know of the circumstances regarding your arrival." She added. "We did not expect, however, someone this young. How old are you?"

"Sixteen." Ichigo haltingly replied, reluctant to admit his juvenility.

"Sixteen…" The answer drew an indulgent smile from the Princess. "Still a child but already you shoulder the burdens of a man."

"Why are you helping me?" Ichigo blurted out.

"…you said the reason you came to Heaven was to rescue someone from Hell. If that is true, I am afraid you are in for a disappointment."

"I'm not going back without her." Ichigo replied in a resolute voice.

"Her?"

"Inoue. Orihime Inoue." The sound of her name hurt Ichigo's ears but he trudged on through the depressing tale of her murder. When he finished, he lifted his eyes from the floor, only to be struck by the pained look on the Princess's face.

"I see…" She closed her eyes, raising a tight fist to her heart. The brocaded designs on her jacket creased from the movement, distorting the phoenixes' wings. By the time she was able to speak, pity was evident in her voice.

"Your situation is…familiar…to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you really think you were the only one who wanted to reclaim the person they lost?" the Princess mournfully gazed at him.

A long, uncomfortable silence followed.

"You and I have much in common." The expression on the Princess's face was one of infinite sadness and weariness that seemed ill-fit for a woman of her rank. "You are a death god. I am of the Royal Family. We are forever bound to obey and serve the laws that are laid down by God. If we disagree, we are punished for our indiscretion. No matter how hard we try to fight the rules, there will always be others who will remind us of our place and that ultimately… we have no choice in the matter."

Ichigo wrenched his jaws apart. "That's bullshit."

The ladies stared at him, mortified by his rudeness.

"People always get choices. Always." Ichigo bore his eyes into the Princess's own dark ones. "I don't believe in that fate crap. People are free to break or follow the rules if they want. It's up to them, not to God."

"You are so sure of yourself." murmured the Second Princess."So you believe you have the power—no, the right—to save this girl? Do you think it is that simple?"

"I don't give a damn whether it's simple or not." Ichigo said, sounding a bit more forceful than he wanted to. "I'm bringing Inoue home."

"If that is what you truly desire, it will cost you."

"I don't care."

"Do not be reckless."

"If your sister knows me then you probably already know what I've done to save my friends." Ichigo cut in. "They mean everything to me. Everything. No matter what it takes, I'm going to make sure they're okay…and that includes Inoue. I am _not_leaving her behind."

"For a mere friend," the Second Princess leveled her gaze, "you are risking a great deal."

At the comment, Ichigo was taken aback but recovered quick enough to deliver a rebuttal.

"She saved my life. I owe her."

"Can you not temper that remorse with sensibility? Do you believe this girl would want you endangering your life to save her from an impossible situation?"

"She helped me."

"Helping yourself out of this would be helping her as well."

"She protected me."

"Then do not let her sacrifice go in vain. Live out your life. Isn't that what she died for?"

"She doesn't have anyone else."

"You said you had friends who helped you get here. If that is true, then they too must care for Orihime. She is not alone as you claim her to be. There are many others who mourn her loss just as deeply as you."

"I have to get her back."

"Why?" challenged the Second Princess. "To assuage your guilty conscience or to fulfill your moral sense of duty?"

"_No,_ _I want to save her_!" Ichigo burst out, agitated.

The yell echoed within the chamber, reverberating across the cold marble walls before it faded away into silence.

"I…I just…" Ichigo staggered, feeling an odd lump growing in his throat. "I want…she…I…"

Out of nowhere, the Second Princess reached over and laid her hand on his shoulder. The warmth from her palm sank deep beneath the folds of his robes to reach the skin.

For a long time, Ichigo kept his eyes on the opposite direction, steadfastly refusing to look at the Princess though he knew very well that she was watching him. At last, he heard her sigh and felt her fingers lock around the curve of the bone in a gesture of comfort. But what she said next cut him deep to the core.

"What I find more tragic than this girl's demise," he heard her whisper in his ear, "is that you realized far too late what you lost and what it meant to you."

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.oO*Oo.

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Yamamoto was furious.

Over a hundred guards, all of the Thirteenth Division, and its captain—wounded. The Shrine of Penitence, the mausoleum, and three districts—ruined. A high-security prisoner gone. Another captain missing. Both nowhere to be found.

This was the aftermath the Commander-General was left with on the following morning.

Never the one to lose his head in a crisis, Yamamoto wasted no time in issuing orders. The First and Seventh Squads were to assist Unohana's team in gathering and accounting for the injured. Second and Eleventh Divisions were given responsibilities to find and capture Shihoin Yoruichi, Urahara Kisuke, and Kyoraku Shunsui. The rest, Yamamoto declared, were to assist in scouring Soul Society and the mortal realm for Kurosaki Ichigo.

But as day after day passed, the squads came back with nothing and their failure only served to infuriate an already angry old man.

Wanting no stone to be left unturned, Yamamoto had Sado, Ishida, Rukia, and Renji interrogated but the story came back as the same from all four individuals: none of them had any idea about Ichigo's plan. They were unanimously shocked and confused over what happened. Much to the Commander-General's chagrin, not a single one knew the whereabouts of Kisuke, Yoruichi, and Shunsui.

So Yamamoto was left seething over the lack of information.

Nonetheless, he doggedly pursued the wrongdoers by sending out more specialty squads to the living realm and threw himself into a frenzy of reconstruction projects. But what haunted him the most, aside from the injured and edificial damages, was how the Royal Key had been so successfully stolen right under his very nose.

That was main gossip among the majority of citizens and shinigami. When had this happened? How many attacks were there? What was the purpose? Had it been premeditated? Yes, there were many questions left hanging in the air and unfortunately there were no satisfying answers to eradicate the clouds of speculation that had cast over Soul Society.

Aside from genuine confusion, there was also a great deal of worry.

The Thirteenth Division in particular was gravely concerned about their captain's well being.

Already in frail health, Ukitake had not only suffered impalement to the chest but sustained heavy blood loss. After an aggressive treatment, Unohana quietly relayed news to the Thirteenth Division that their captain was out of the woods but that he would require a very long convalescence. Though many were relieved at this, Ukitake was annoyed.

Ever familiar with hospitals, he lay prostrate in his sickbed, feeling an urge to give Kyoraku a swift kick in the pants. If only Kyoraku had been a little more gentle in his charade of an attack! Fuming, Ukitake rolled to the side of his bed, vainly willing himself to take a nap when he heard the panel door slide open.

"Captain…"

Ukitake raised his head.

"Good morning." Unohana smiled as she entered. "I trust you slept well?"

"Ah." Ukitake returned the greeting with a slight nod. "Very well, thank you."

"I've come to check your vitals." Unohana knelt down, smoothing the front of her white robe. "Do you feel well enough to sit up?"

Flipping off his coverlet, Ukitake made a clumsy attempt to raise his back and after a lot of wincing, he managed to fulfill his doctor's request.

"The nurses tell me you've been skipping some of your meals." Unohana chatted off-handedly as she placed a few tepid fingers on Ukitake's wrist.

"Not very hungry these days—ah!"

"Forgive me." Unohana released her hold. "You haven't been feeling feverish?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

"Mm." Casually, Unohana opened his shift to reveal the bandaged sides to check for spotting.

"I hope everything's fine. I don't want to stay here longer than I have to." Ukitake grinned.

"No, you are recovering quite well." Unohana shook her braided head. "In fact, you are doing so well that it's remarkable given your injuries."

Though her voice remained light and friendly, Ukitake sensed an odd undertone of skepticism. He tried to look straight into her face but she had lowered her eyes.

"I noticed during surgery that none of your vital organs were damaged. The hit you sustained was deep but precise nonetheless. Whoever struck you knew what he was doing."

Somewhere deep inside Ukitake, his entire stomach seemed to shrivel up.

"It was such a strange wound. Compared to the others who were injured, yours was but a scratch." Unohana's lashes fluttered, letting light filter into her blue irises.

For a moment, Ukitake expected her to say that she knew. She knew everything and she was going to tell Commander-General. That she knew the attack had been a ruse. That Kyoraku had not been the only captain in the Goteijusantai corroborating in the plot.

But the expression there in her eyes was not accusation or spite.

Rather, it was one of understanding.

"I am glad you were able to help Kurosaki, Ukitake-taichou."

Then as though to calm his fears, Unohana gently laid a hand on top of Ukitake's and enclosed his fingers with her own.


	10. Warning Signs

At the Inner Palace, dawn was a busy affair.

From the balcony of the Second Princess's pavilion, Ichigo could hear the First Princess berating her servants at the top of her lungs. The dress was the wrong color. A headdress hadn't been cleaned properly. Jewels were missing. Her shoes were lackluster. It was amazing to him how she could scream without ever losing a breath.

"—stupid, all of you! _Where _are my diamonds?"

"Your Highness, we are searching your apartments as we speak—" A harassed looking lady-in-waiting pleaded.

"Enough with your excuses! Why haven't you prepared everything like I asked you to?"

"—my lady—"

"Oh, must I do everything _myself_?"

The abusive tirade continued until the missing diamonds were finally found by a pagegirl, panting with exhaustion after scrambling with the other servants to find the Princess's jewels.

Satisfied at last, the First Princess had the bauble arranged into her white hair then left for the sky.

A brisk winter breeze snapped around Ichigo's ears as he craned his neck to watch the First Princess ascend. Higher and higher she went, trailing yards of glittering topaz colored silk after her. Her ascent seemed to go on forever until at last, she melted into the sky and all at once the heavens turned rosy gold from wintry grey.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Ichigo turned around. There was the Second Princess, resplendent in lavender-gold robes that swished and flowed about her feet as she strode towards him.

Giving a weak shrug, he angled his head away so she wouldn't see the grimace on his face as a monstrous host of anxiety attacked him from within. It clawed at his insides and tore at his conscience as he thought more and more about what lied ahead. How was he going to get Orihime out? How? _How?_

Worst of all had been the Princess's questions. He didn't want to admit it but they deeply disturbed him in the same way Rangiku's and Rukia's had. Every mission, every journey had felt so right to him. He had never, not once, wavered in his confidence and had always kept the goal in sight. But this was different. Saving Orihime had been the whole point of this goddamn mess. This was for her, not for him.

Not for him.

"I had hoped," the Second Princess gently ventured, "that you had changed your mind."

When she received no reply, she went on.

"There have been many, many people like you who have come here to ask this impossible request. Your stubbornness is understandable, naturally, but it is something we have already encountered before."

"What happened to them?" Ichigo gazed out at the spot where the First Princess had disappeared just moments before.

"It depends on your definition of 'winning' and 'losing.' "

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ichigo faced her.

"Some died. Others got lost on the way. Few were able to reunite with their loved ones..." She paused. "But not in the living world."

For a fleeting moment, Ichigo had a vision of himself and Orihime spending eternity in the dark underworld. They would never again have any comfort from their friends or take advantage of what life had to offer. Instead, they would pass time through the gloomy archways of Hell, gazing at each other through sad grey eyes as they thought of times long forgotten.

"I take it," he heard the Second Princess say, "that this is not the kind of victory you want. But you must realize that what you are fighting for transgresses the boundary of life and death. I know you are willing to risk the journey but your opponent is someone who does not let go of his victims."

"I'll defeat him."

"It is not that simple."

"Then help me." Ichigo demanded. "Don't just stand there and tell me it's going to be hard—I know it is—I've known that since the beginning. But I made a promise and I'm not going back on it."

"Not all promises can be kept, dear one."

"This one's going to be."

The Princess stood a little straighter and a thoughtful frown appeared at the corner of her mouth. Then at last she shook her head. A warm smile curved her flawless cheek and from the look of it, it was nostalgic.

"You are very like him." She remarked. A gloomy shadow cast over her face, robbing it of its initial glow that the sun had bestowed on her just moments ago.

"…I was married once. I had a husband, a family...but he was sent away to a place where I can never go. It was punishment, you see. Their Majesties felt he would distract me from my duties and that his status was not fit for someone of my rank."

She stopped then taking a breath, she went on with a stronger voice.

"I know what it is like to lose everything. To be told no at every direction, every corner. That is why I understand you. I understand you better than you think. We are very similar, you and I. But there also lies a singular difference between us.

"You are human, Ichigo. You have the right and power to live by your choices. But I am a daughter of Heaven. I have duty to this realm and to yours...and I cannot abandon that. I have to look after the sky."

"You don't have to." He abruptly turned away. Her futility was too much to bear. "You should get your husband back."

"It's not that easy as you make it out to be, I am afraid." The Princess said with a tremulous look. "I…can't fight, like you, Ichigo. I can't risk it all. I can't resist. I am…"

"Bound to obey and serve. I know." Ichigo finished for her. He had heard this before. From Byakuya, not even a year ago. How certain the head of the Kuchiki clan was in sacrificing Rukia for the sake of duty, thinking it was the right thing to do.

Well look how well _that _had turned out.

But…" the Princess lifted her gaze to where the vestiges of the Milky Way, "…sometimes I think that the pain I endure is worth what I lost all those years ago." She lowered her gaze. " Waiting, unfortunately, is all I can do for him in my position... but were I human, I would battle with every breath I had."

Ichigo could only nod. Overhead, the sun had broken against the clouds, allowing streams of golden light pass through.

"Then," the Princess drew away from the balcony, "we are at understanding. I can only hope that your strength matches your determination."

"I'm going to bring her back." The declaration fell from Ichigo's lips like it was nothing.

"That is what you _say_." The Princess discerned. "Not what you have _done_."

But just as that disheartening feeling hit Ichigo, it was quickly erased when he saw a hint of a smile on the Princess's lips.

"Don't be worried, dear one. I have faith and I do not think it has been misplaced."

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.oO*Oo.

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"Ah! There you are!"

The Fourth Prince beamed when he caught sight of Ichigo and the Second Princess entering back into the pavilion. Clothed in white and silver, he looked like a bright speck of light in the dark chamber. As he walked towards them, Ichigo's eye turned downward to what he held in his hand.

There, gleaming in pristine condition, was none other than Zangetsu.

"Fixed him!" The Fourth Prince proudly handed it off to Ichigo. "He's as good as new."

Relieved, Ichigo enclosed his fingers over Zangetsu's handle. A strange warmth passed through his entire arm, comforting him in a way that no one else could. It was almost as if he had an old friend back, a sense of ability returned to him.

"I tempered the blade." The Fourth Prince added as Ichigo closely examined the sword. "No matter what strikes it, it will never break again."

" 'Never' ?" Ichigo repeated in disbelief.

"_Never_." The Fourth Prince assured. "It's the same technique I use with the Royal Guard's zanpakuto. I normally don't use it on regular swords but this one…" He tapped Zangetsu's two-toned blade. "…this one is special. I felt Zangetsu deserved it."

"Thanks." Ichigo said, his voice full of gratitude.

"Oh, it was nothing!" dismissed the Prince. "If there's anything you have to understand about me, it's that I don't like seeing my swords break, especially right in front of me. It makes me feel like the worst swordsmith in the entire cosmos." He smiled down at Ichigo but when he caught his sister's eye, his lips contracted. "Did I...miss...anything?"

He warily looked to Ichigo then back at the Second Princess.

"I know what you'll say. I already heard it from her." Ichigo jerked his head to the Second Princess. "I'm still going."

The Prince was stunned

"Brother, it is no use." She wistfully gazed at the death god. "He made up his mind long before he set foot here."

"I don't think you impressed him hard enough, Sister." The Fourth Prince frowned, all gaiety gone.

"I'm going." Ichigo repeated.

"The place you want to go isn't exactly paradise," warned the Fourth Prince, "it's cold, dark, and full of broken souls that will attack you without reason."

"Which is exactly why I need to get Inoue out of there." Ichigo replied. "I'll find a way."

Stunned by the steely tone in Ichigo's voice, the Prince turned to his sister in incredulity.

"He will not change his mind." The Second Princess said simply

"But…" the Fourth Prince faltered, seeing the stony look on Ichigo's face. "…well…all right…if this is what you really want…you are a human, after all…"

"When can I go?"

"Now." The Second Princess readily answered. "I cannot leave my pavilion but my brother can take you to the bridgeway."

"I can?" The Prince looked befuddled.

"If you are willing, Brother." The Second Princess signaled one of her maids to leave. When the girl returned, she was carrying a heavy mass of black cloth in her arms. The Princess reached over and grasped the material with both of her hands then unfurled it to reveal a long cloak.

"Take this." The Princess held out the garment to Ichigo. When he didn't take it right away, she added, "It will help you."

"You will need it." seconded the Prince.

"Thanks." Ichigo muttered uncertainly, taking the cloak and slipping his arms into it. He had no idea why the siblings thought this would help him but he put it on anyway, not wanting to appear ungracious. As soon as he vested the cloak on, the fabric swathed him like it was his own skin and moved at the lightest touch.

With that done, the Fourth Prince motioned him to follow. "Come. You'll need to take advantage of the daylight."

"Wait." Ichigo turned back.

There stood the Second Princess, looking mournfully alone in the dark recess of her pavilion. Behind her, the circular pool shimmered in its own light while her loom sinisterly gleamed at its edge.

"You aren't afraid." She said. It was more of a remark than an encouragement. "You will fight to keep your promise, that I know."

Then quite unexpectedly, she moved forward and put her arms around him.

Ichigo was rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do. It had been a long time since someone had held him in this kind of motherly embrace. But slowly, he felt his head tilt down and rest against the Princess's brocaded shoulder. Then as they broke apart, the Second Princess leaned to his ear and murmured a goodbye.

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.oO*Oo.

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When Ishida and Sado returned to school after a long stay in Soul Society, they expected that little had changed during their absence.

Much to Yamamoto's dismay, he realized that the Quincy and human truly had had no idea about Ichigo's plan. Without evidence to say otherwise, he grudgingly let them return to the living world but exiled them from Seireitei from that day forward.

Not that Ishida and Sado minded.

Life had gone back to a steady, dependable rhythm. Karakura Town looked just the same as it did before and as the boys passed by busy streets and crowded parks, it was hard to believe that a sleeping enchantment had been cast over the town just a few weeks ago. Nor did it seem as though it had been on the brink of destruction.

At their appearance, every one of their classmates was surprised but not quite for that reason. Strangely enough, they were more concerned about the _disappearance_of two particular individuals.

"Wha…wha…wha…WHAT?"

"That's right, Asano-san." Ishida lied as he dispassionately watched Keigo convulse with shock and he wasn't the only one. Nearly everyone in class had stopped eating their lunches to look on as Keigo further disintegrated into hysterics.

"But…that doesn't…wha…ICHIGO AND ORIHIME WENT ON A CRUISE _TOGETHER_?" Keigo shouted the last word in disbelief. He whirled around. "MIZUIRO, ARE YOU HEARING THIS?"

"Yes, but they will be back." Ishida raised his voice above Keigo's frantic yelps. "They're only in Hawaii—"

"HA-WA-_II_?" Keigo screamed. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS—I ALWAYS INVITE THEM TO _MY_ GET-TOGETHERS SO WHY DIDN'T THEY GO WITHOUT _ME_—GAH! MIZUIRO, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?"

"You're making a scene." Mizuiro coldly smiled. "People are staring."

"ICHIGO AND ORIHIME HAVE ELOPED!" Keigo shrieked.

"No, they haven't eloped. They're just on a trip. We went to Osaka together and they decided to go separately from there to Hawaii." Ishida calmly explained.

"LIAR!" Keigo roared, pointing a finger at him in accusation. "I'D LIKE TO BELIEVE YOU SINCE ICHIGO IS UGLY AS_SIN_AND ORIHIME IS _WAY_ OUT OF HIS LEAGUE—!"

"I don't think you should have told him anything." Sado muttered to Ishida as he gazed down at Keigo, already jumping to conclusions and in the throes of unnecessary panic.

"What else did you want me to say?" Ishida retorted in the same undertone. "The truth?"

At that, Sado fell silent.

"It's better to say they're on vacation. Nobody can check that. Besides this whole thing will die down soon enough."

Unfortunately, Ishida miscalculated because by the end of the day, Ichigo and Orihime had become the school's main gossip.

To Ishida's and Sado's exasperation, everyone was convinced like Keigo that the pair had indeed run away to elope. All day long, they had to endure being stopped in the hallways by random students asking them questions and sharing their thoughts with them:

"So romantic! I never knew Kurosaki-kun had it in him!"

"What the _fuck_! How did that douche bag end up with the hottest girl in school?_"_

"She's pregnant isn't she?"

"I thought he was gay!"

"No freaking way! I feel so bad for that girl already! I heard he's mean…"

"…totally something she would do. Did you expect that too?"

"_No…._seriously? _No!_You're joking right? Right?"

"His hair. It must've been what got her attracted to him. That's the only explanation. The hair."

"Oh I can't believe it! Orihime-chan would never do something like this! It can't be true!"

By the end of the day, the school had divided itself on the issue. Many, particularly the boys, were dumbfounded at the idea of sweet, good-looking Orihime eloping with an uncool skinny nobody whose head resembled a furry tangerine. Seething, the male students were vociferous in their beliefs that in all likelihood, Ichigo probably kidnapped her.

Others however insisted that the two had indeed run away to get married, out of genuine affection and love. This camp was—unsurprisingly—headed and strongly supported by the girls.

The drama worsened during fifth period when Chizuru was informed of the unfortunate development.

Horror-struck, she entered into a breathless rant about how Ichigo was so undeserving of Orihime and that she was so sure the latter was a closeted lesbian that five minutes later, she exhausted herself into a faint. An hour later, she was seen by the other students, being carefully escorted across the courtyard by her bewildered mother and the school nurse.

But in the midst of all the fuss, there remained one person who did not accept the story so easily. For weeks, she had been sickened with worry. She had tried very hard to take reassurance in what that strange man called Urahara had told her but found that she couldn't. Not even Mizuiro and Keigo could, and even they preferred not to speak of it.

The moment she had heard the rumor, she knew it had been a lie. By now, she knew what a cover story looked like and that was exactly what this was. She was sure of it. So wanting to be discreet, she purposely waited until class was done then confronted the corroborator just before he left.

"You know something." Tatsuki got to the point straightaway, accusing Ishida as he gathered his things.

"Know what, Arisawa-san?" Ishida lightly asked.

Tatsuki's eyes narrowed. "I'm not stupid. I know why Ichigo is gone and where he went. But what about Orihime?"

Ishida paused then drawing a breath, he plastered on a benign smile. "I don't know what you're talking about—"

"—stop it." Tatsuki snapped. "Where is she? Why are you lying to everybody about where she is?"

"I have to go." Ishida pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

In that instant, Tatsuki gripped his arm, stopping him from going any further. Had she acted any faster, she could have broken a bone or given him a stinging bruise at the very least. But remembering what happened last time when she lost her temper in front of everyone, she forced herself to stay in control. Slowly, she let go of Ishida.

"Tell me where they really are." Tatsuki said in a tight voice.

Ishida gave her a long, hard look.

Truth be told, he did not know this Arisawa girl very well. While she wasn't ignorant like the rest of Kurosaki's friends, he somehow felt it would be better to keep her in the dark. Despite his unfamiliarity with her, he knew how close Tatsuki had been to Orihime and that in itself was enough reason for him to keep his mouth shut.

Still…

…she was a friend…

And the longer Ishida stared into Tatsuki's face, the more his determination slipped away. If he had been in her position, wouldn't he have demanded the same?

Slowly, Ishida let the strap of his bag slip down from his shoulder then pushing up his glasses by the bridge, he lowered his voice.

"…you had better sit down."


	11. An Accord

Less than a year after his mother's death, a bloodied and unconscious Inoue Sora had been rushed into Ichigo's family clinic. An accident, the police had said. The driver of the car had forgotten to put on his headlights and collided straight into Sora as the vehicle turned a corner. The paramedics had done their best to keep him alive during the transit but with so much internal damage, the end was inevitable, and at eleven that night, the young man breathed his last.

It was the second time that Ichigo had witnessed death. The first, had been his own mother's grisly murder. He remembered feeling horribly frightened at the time as Sora was so young. He was accustomed to seeing Isshin treat relatively minor conditions and in rare cases, assist in preparing extremely old patients for the inevitable. But not this. Not an eighteen year old boy whose life seemed so far ahead of him.

How unfair...how _unfair._

"Does he have any family?" Ichigo recalled his father asking.

He did, the police affirmed, a younger sister. The parents were absent. In fact, they had brought the girl with them and Ichigo watched as Isshin went over to comfort the poor thing who was crying her eyes out in the waiting room. He stood there, absorbing the sight of his father cradling the back of her head with his hand and wrapping his arms around her as though she were Yuzu or Karin. Not a strange little girl who he had just met.

It was not until highschool that Ichigo discovered that same girl was in his class. He had wanted to talk to her during lunch but when he saw her sitting with a large circle of friends, he turned around and walked away. No need to remind her of painful memories, he had told himself. There was more than a good chance that she didn't want to talk about her brother.

In hindsight, this was a mistake and he would repeat it over and over again.

There had been so many crucial times he had missed or ignored to be there for Orihime as good friends were supposed to do. Instead, he had left her to fend for herself or had unwittingly given the task to Rukia and Matsumoto to take care of her. Yes, he had been there to physically protect her but emotionally? He was as good as her parents on that one.

They had both lost to death early on. They were ordinary teenage students who had acquired strange powers out of nowhere and seemingly without purpose. They had the same drive, the same ambition to get stronger and better in order to shield others from harm. Friends were important to them, the protection of innocent civilians, vital.

It hadn't even occurred to Ichigo how...how...could he admit to this?

Lonely.

Scared.

How hard it must have been for a girl like Orihime to be thrust into a strange new world with no one to reassure her, no one to encourage her to strengthen her newfound abilities. All he and the others had done was push her to the sidelines, claiming it was for her protection when really, it only stunted her growth. It made her weaker and feel vulnerable; a burden to all.

Rukia had always been there to explain, coach, and teach him how to carry a shinigami's duties. But who was there for Orihime to show her those things? Who?

_Nobody, _Ichigo harshly realized, _nobody was there. But I should have been. I could have been there._

"We can still turn back." The Fourth Prince's voice flitted into his ear.

"No."

"Well if you're frightened, I understand—"

"I'm not frightened!"

"Of course you aren't." The Fourth Prince said in a flat voice that indicated otherwise. "Tighten your cloak."

"Why?"

"Because," the Fourth Prince crossed a hallway with Ichigo closely following his tail, "the farther you go into the Bridgeway, the more dangerous it is. You'll need cover and protection—that's why Second Sister gave that cloak to you."

"How is this going to protect me?" Ichigo was skeptical.

The Fourth Prince raised his brow. "I wouldn't take everything on appearance alone. But really, if you don't feel you're up to it, it's perfectly all right."

"Where are we going?" Ichigo doggedly asked, determined to keep the conversation on the task at hand and not on speculations about the level of his courage.

"The Bridgeway of Dreams. The only thing that connects this world to the one you wish to go to."

The Inner Palace was a labyrinth of passageways, pavilions, and galleries but with the Prince at his side, Ichigo was able to find his way and glimpse at some spectacular scenery. The Second Princess's pavilion had been located on the southwest side but once Ichigo headed east, he noticed the architecture transition from impressive regality to imaginative finery. There were fewer buildings in this area; the courtyards and gardens outnumbering them all.

As they were walking along a bridge, Ichigo noticed a series of waterfalls pouring out from underneath a marble terrace and into a vast lake bordered by a wildly beautiful field of flowers bathed in perpetual sunshine.

"There," gestured the Fourth Prince, "do you see that mist?"

Ichigo nodded, catching sight of what appeared to be an odd rosy sheen beyond the flower field.

"That's the Bridgeway. We are close."

But when they got there, it hardly looked like a bridgeway. Instead, it was as if he and the Fourth Prince had reached the edge of the realm where the land seemed to stop. Even the sunlight had gone out. The mist turned out to be cloud cover dispersed across a sky that went on forever into black infinity. An exit was nowhere to be seen.

Ichigo turned to the Prince, clueless.

"Walk."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Ichigo was annoyed. "There's no bridgeway!"

"There is. But you have to walk first."

Ichigo considered him for a moment. At first, he thought the Prince was pulling his leg but from expression alone, the royal appeared every bit as serious as one could be. Not entirely satisfied, he gave a curt nod anyway.

"Ah, wait." The Prince stepped forward to flip over the cloak's hood over Ichigo's head. "Sheathe your sword."

"_Why_?"

"The bridgeway you are walking across temporarily goes into a separate dimension where sleep and dreams reside. It is not as substantial as here or in Hell but it is still a realm all the same. There will be things…illusions…to distract you. Sister's cloak will help you be kept unseen."

The Prince hesitated, as though trying to think what he might have missed before sending Ichigo off.

"Whatever you do, don't follow the dreams. They can make you believe you are in a different place and time than the one you truly are in. They can take any form: a person, a place, a sound, a certain shape..."

"But why do I have to sheathe Zangetsu?" Ichigo demanded.

"Because when you get into Hell, there are other souls there and if they see your sword, they will know you are a shinigami. That will make them desperate and they will try, by any means necessary, to have you dispatch them to Soul Society."

"But why—"

"You can't." The Fourth Prince was somber. "Even if you try, it won't work. Sealing them will do nothing because they are too corrupt to withstand Soul Society let alone the journey to it."

Predictably, Ichigo was less than pleased to hear this. "Then how am I supposed to get Inoue out of there?"

The Fourth Prince regarded him with a careful eye. Humans, he had come to realize, did not like having their freewill questioned. Fate and pessimism were anathema to a creature who sustained itself on perseverance and hope.

_He is certainly stronger than the others were, _the Prince thought.

"If you want to rescue the girl," he said at last, "you need to conquer him."

"Him?"

"Death."

Had this been any other situation, Ichigo would have laughed at the absurdity of the comment. Death. The name itself sounded ridiculously ominous.

"He is old...he has existed for long as Their Majesties have. I can't even remember a time without him." The Prince's eyes clouded with a memory that seemed to stretch to eternity. "His duty is sacred, there is no denying that. But he has become arrogant. He believes himself to be a king in his own right when we all know who truly rules this place and all other things. He even acts like a child... negotiation is not an option with him. Force is the only way."

"Well that was my plan to begin with." Ichigo replied in blunt fashion.

"Don't let him get under your skin. He has a natural talent for it." The Prince's lips curled in distaste.

"I've dealt with worse." Ichigo said dryly, thinking of Aizen's and Gin's taunts.

"Well, I suppose we have reached a parting of ways." The Prince looked grim. "This is as far as I can go with you."

"How do I get back?"

"The same way you came. The Bridgeway ends where Hell begins."

"Okay." Ichigo was about to turn then stopped halfway. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"…tell your sister I said thank you."

"Thank her yourself when you come back." smiled the Prince. "We'll be here, both of us, awaiting your _glorious _return!"

Then before Ichigo could make another smart remark, the Prince clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder then let go, sending him away into the transcendental realm of dreams and sleep.

,

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.oO*Oo.

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The dimension Ichigo had knowingly stepped into could hardly be called a "place."

After some hesitation, Ichigo followed the Prince's advice and started walking, half-expecting to tumble then plummet thousands of feet. To his surprise, the sky felt heavy and substantial enough for him to walk along. In time, he got used to the sensation of ambling on air. The mist surrounded him, blocking all visibility when suddenly he felt his shoes bump against something solid.

Surprised, Ichigo took a step back and all at once, his sight cleared.

A bridgeway appeared before his eyes, looking every bit real and tangible as he could have hoped for. Its lacquered planks formed a perfect arch over the scintillating mist while its ebony and gold railings stood between him and the insubstantial atmosphere. Buoyed by the Prince being correct, Ichigo did not hesitate to go across it.

There were a few moments when he thought he saw something glittering behind the opaque sheen. Other times, he heard an incoherent stream of voices murmuring insensible nothings into his ear. When he turned his head, the clouds rolled back to reveal a perfect white moon hung aloft a purple tinted sky. A marvel of a valley lay below, its lake waters lapping quietly along its flowery shore and a warm breeze sifted through the lush verdure.

Ichigo bent forward, taking in the scenery.

He was not sure whether he was awake or dreaming when he heard a voice calling out to him. It sounded sweet and clear, happy even.

"_…you see Kurosaki-kun, I came to say goodbye…"_

He stood straighter and looked out, not seeing anything else but the hills and stars.

_"I'm no good. It's the very end and I'm acting like this…"_

_Inoue…!_Recognition hit him like a ton of bricks. Eagerly, he leaned over the railing to try to catch a glimpse of her when he stopped himself.

"_Kurosaki-kun, there were a lot of things I wanted to do. I wanted to become a teacher, an astronaut, and a baker…I wanted to go to a bunch of different donut shops and ask one of everything…_

_"…wish I could have had five lives…then I could have been born in five different towns, eaten five lifetimes worth of food, have five different careers…_

"Inoue…"

"…_and fallen in love…"_

His hand closed over the rail.

_"…with the same person, five times…"_

For a long time, Ichigo stood on the bridgeway, staring out into the mist. The words, her phrases…they were familiar to him as though he had heard them before albeit he had no memory of this particular conversation. He had no idea whether this was an illusion, a manipulative dream, or something that actually happened. But one thing was clear. Orihime was dead. She had been dead for a while now and that pretty, smiling girl was just a memory kept alive by her friends. Wherever she was, it wasn't here, not in this world.

Disappointed, Ichigo stepped back then pulling the hood tighter to his face, he continued on his way, steeling himself to ignore the remnants of dreams.

On, and on, and on, and on, the journey seemed to go.

Once, Ichigo encountered sluggish streams of grey vapors leaking across the bridge. What they were, he didn't know, but when he felt a streak of it graze his hand, an unnatural drowsiness came over him and in a panic, he stumbled away from it. But his path did not end there but continued in a seemingly endless, pathless void.

After what felt like hours and his legs felt as though they had turned into butter, he felt a change in the atmosphere. He was not cold but where the cloak didn't cover him, he felt the icy air along his skin. The moonlight dimmed and when he turned back, the view of the bridgeway began to fade.

He was close.

It was not long until he had his first meeting with a male ghost but to his surprise, it did not see him even though it looked right into his eyes. Instead, it drifted past him with an indifference belonging to a passerby walking alone on a street.

As he walked further and further along, the drop in the temperature became more noticeable and the number of ghosts increased. The darkness gave way to what could only be described as a strange columned hallway. It was enormous, enough to make Ichigo feel short and incredibly insignificant as he looked up at the cavernous ceiling.

For a moment, he felt as though he were in Soul Society what with so many souls walking around him. On appearance alone, they seemed normal but it didn't take long for him to see they were clearly anything but. They appeared to come from all walks of life but the one thing that stringed them together was their apathy.

There were men, women, and even children roaming aimlessly about the deep halls. Every type of miscreant from the worst of society was trapped in this godforsaken place. But there were many others who did not fit into this category either and it was difficult to imagine why they were here instead of anywhere else. Of the few who could still exhibit some emotion other than quiet indifference, Ichigo heard their whispers and mutterings as he glided past them.

_"…never meant to do it…they asked me…they_begged _me…"_

_"Why isn't she here? Why? I did everything I could…."_

_"I hate him…I will never forgive him…"_

_"Help me!"_

Ichigo froze.

Whirling around, he scanned the hallway and finally spotted the source of the cry. A young woman was lying on her stomach at the base of one of the columns. She was pleading with someone, begging them to stop and it only took one look for Ichigo to see who she was talking to. The shadowed figure of a man was restraining her to the ground with his bare arms and had straddled her.

_"Trust me,_" he heard the man croon, _"this won't hurt as much if you stay still."_

A smoldering hatred swept over Ichigo's entire body. He ran, feeling a murderous intent rise with every step. Forgetting the Prince's warning, he reached out, struck the man on the backside of his head and without so much as a pause, he flung the disgusting fiend off the girl. Turning around, he tore away his hood and unsheathed Zangetsu.

The ghosts reacted.

Like animals who had sensed something coming, they all turned to Ichigo's direction, being able to see him at last.

Hell broke loose.

Before long, Ichigo lost sight of the would-be-rapist and was being desperately seized at by dozens, hundreds of people. They grasped his neck, his cloak, at Zangetsu, whatever they could get their hands on as though he were an anointed saint who could cure their afflictions by mere touch. The way they clung to him was pathetic as they moaned, groveled, and demanded his attention and sympathy.

"_A death god—"_

_"—help me, please help me—"_

_"I don't belong here!"_

_"Save me!"_

_"Send me to Soul Society—!"_

A host of screams suddenly rose as something came towards the spirits with alarming speed. An invisible force lashed out at them, whipping at their forms and causing them to disperse like scared rats. Section by section, the mob shrank until at last, Ichigo found himself alone with the perpetrator.

When the Prince had mentioned his adversary, Ichigo expected an exact copy of Aizen or even a colossal demon whose nature was inclined towards cruelty and mindless violence. Instead, to his incredulity, it was a little boy. Death was of short stature and slight build, looking as though he hadn't even reached his tenth birthday. A halo of golden blond hair crowned his delicate features and rosy complexion, radiant against the black backdrop of Hell. Clad in simple white funerary robes, he seemed more like a child seraphim than an angel of death.

For once, Ichigo was at a loss for words. This had to be a mistake. How could someone this miniscule possibly be his opponent?

But now the boy was looking intently at him. His eyes, being of a sharp green color, instantly grew cold as they locked onto Ichigo. An expression of great disappointment and annoyance twisted his beatific face. Seemingly in anger, he cast a glance to his left where a few spirits were lingering at.

"Idiots." The boy sneered. The tone of his voice was unsuited for his youthful appearance. "No shinigami can send you to Soul Society from here." He turned to Ichigo.

"Who are you?" Ichigo said, furious.

"Isn't it obvious?" was the contemptuous reply. The boy turned on his heel, facing the rest of the cowering ghosts in the great hall. "I want no audiences. Get out."

They didn't need telling twice. Quite rapidly, the spirits swarmed towards the edges and began to disappear past the gigantic columns. When they were gone, the boy returned his attention to Ichigo.

"As expected." The scorn was hard to miss. "Wretched siblings have no taste."

"What are you talking about?"

Death grew still. When Ichigo failed to explain his lack of knowledge, the boy almost smiled, a reaction Ichigo noted. A dreadful sense of uneasiness fell over him.

"Did they not tell you?" Death's eyes widened. "Odd…to send a death god like you without informing you the rules of the game."

"I don't understand." Truly, Ichigo didn't. "What _game_?"

"'I don't understand'?" mocked Death. "Are you so stupid as to not wonder _why _you were able to pass into Hell so easily? Why your benefactors wanted to help you?"

Ichigo opened his mouth to defend them when he stopped. It was absurd, after all. He had never suspected the Second Princess and the Fourth Prince of lying to him. They had rescued him, cared for his sword, provided him passage through the Royal Realm. Their actions did not seem calculated but seemed to be made out of genuine feeling. He had not been given reason to think otherwise.

Until now, that is.

"I suppose she told you her sob story about that maggot husband of hers." Death said shrewdly as he watched Ichigo come to the realization. "That part is true. The rest was a lie in order to get you to trust her."

To enlighten the confounded shinigami, as Death saw fit, he launched into a brief history lesson. That long before Ichigo's time, the Key had not been guarded by Soul Society. Souls were able to go in and out of the Royal Realm at their leisure. Even humans. The purpose of this was to allow every living creature to be granted an audience with the King and the Second Princess had always been the one who interceded on their behalf, especially those whose causes were similar to her own.

"Her husband." Ichigo remembered. "But I don't get it…what do you have to do with that…?" he stopped, the answer striking across his head like a lit match.

"Her 'husband,'" Death pronounced the word in revulsion "was human. He died in exile. But because of his crime, I was ordered to imprison him here instead of allowing him to join other souls for rebirth. Ever since then, that bitch and her dimwitted brother have plagued me to release him."

A wave of nausea passed over Ichigo. He already knew where this was heading but Death wasn't finished.

"That's when she made a deal..."

Death lowered his voice.

"She wanted him back...she still wants him back, even after all these centuries...so I told her I would return what I took. But if I did, _she _had to give me what I wanted. A worthy adversary. But she never held up _her_ end of the bargain." He clenched his fist. "She sent me humans and death gods, all of them throwing away their chance at living in Soul Society just to enter Hell to recover their loved ones. But _none _of them got past me. They were weak…annoyingly stubborn. They could talk better than wielding a weapon.

"Do you know what it is like to live on forever, cutting down all living things? It gets tiring, boring. Even the ones who resist are too powerless to stop me. They always are." He lifted a finger to point at Ichigo. "You are no more than a sacrificial pig in all this. You aren't the only one to enter here and demand that I return a soul to them. Others before you tested their arrogance and were punished for their insolence in thinking the balance of life and death could be altered for their own gain."

For once, Ichigo was speechless. His insides had writhed into nothing in the wake of the revelation. How could he have been so stupid? Why hadn't he regarded the Princess more carefully? He should have known better instead of trusting her, believing her.

It stung him to know she had knowingly sent him to be a disposable pawn in a centuries-old stalemate. Yet she and the Prince had given him what he wanted all along: a way to hadn't lied to him about that and for now...yes, for now...that alone was enough for him to ignore the wrong done to him.

He would deal with it later.

"I don't give a shit." Ichigo said at last, hardening his gaze. "You have something of mine. I want it back."

"Direct to the point, are we? Well doesn't that save us a lot of time."

"Where is she? Where's Inoue?"

But Death had no intention of giving up that information. Even Ichigo could see that from a distance in the way the boy regarded him. Ridicule, laughter.

"She doesn't belong here. She died protecting Soul Society. It wasn't her fault that her soul got damaged in the process. That was all Aizen."

"Like I haven't heard that one before." Death said with withering condescension. "The circumstances don't matter. If I recall, the person you're looking for was killed in battle. There is nothing extraordinary about that to warrant some kind of miraculous resurrection."

It took all that Ichigo had to not lunge towards him. Negotiation was useless, the Prince had said, but what if he was wrong? The Princess herself had been able to make a deal with Death…so why not _him_ too?

"What about me?" Ichigo drew himself up.

"I have no interest in someone as insignificant as you."

"You said you were bored. You said you wanted a worthy adversary, right? You've got one right here."

The boy cruelly smiled at him.

"I'll fight you, with everything I have. I win, you let Inoue go."

"I wouldn't gamble with me, if I were you." There was more than a hint of warning in Death's voice.

"You don't have much to lose." An old confidence was coming back to him. Mischief crinkled behind his eyes as he felt a flush of invincibility course through him. This was just another enemy he had to defeat. There was nothing to it. He had fought so many times before that this was no different than the others. "I'll give you the battle you want."

At this, Death considered him for a moment.

"And if _you_ lose?"

Ichigo paused. He had been prepared for this, long before he had even set foot into the Royal Realm. Rukia would be downright pissed at his decision but in time, she would understand. Sacrifice was not a foreign concept to her.

"Take me in Inoue's place."

"Not a chance." scoffed Death, seeing through the loophole at once.

"Then keep me here."

"So determined to stay together, aren't we?" Death quietly disdained. But when he saw that Ichigo would not budge an inch from his proposal, he lowered his head in gentle mockery. "Very well. Give me a good fight and I'll let that girl of yours go. If you fail, and most likely you will, I take you both down. "

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "I'd like to see you try."

Death smiled. "Are we at an agreement then?"

"…yeah." Ichigo looked at him straight in the face. "Yeah, we have an agreement."


	12. Love

He called it the Palace of Justice, the cavernous hall where all condemnations were meted out. The realm was an expansive plane of grey land filled with thick brambles and awash of cursed water. The geography was complicated with rocky hillsides, barren meadows, and two oceans: Acheron and Lethe. One of woe, the other of forgetfulness. A few souls who had deluded themselves into thinking there was an escape route through these bodies of water were horrifically mistaken.

Spirits who fled to the outlands consumed themselves with their own despair and madness. Sometimes, Death had regaled to Ichigo, a distraught soul who obtained a precious moment of lucidity would come to him and beg. Facing an afterlife such as this was too much to bear. Final eradication of one's existence was a far more preferable ending.

"They always come with the same complaints, day after day." Death had said with utmost contempt. "They ask why they are here, what did they do to deserve this, that they don't belong here, that they want go home. But there is no need to answer their questions because they themselves know _why_. It's a matter of them seeing past themselves and their sin."

In time, Ichigo observed this was easier said than done. The souls here had lost their individuality and were fixated with the crimes they had committed in life. This was a dimension where the worst qualities of mankind were unleashed. There were no social norms, physical beauty, or positions of power to hide behind by. Whatever lied beneath the exterior in life, was turned inside out in death.

"If you find her in bits and pieces, don't be shocked. For all I know, she was attacked and mutilated by other ghosts." Death coldly predicted.

The warning haunted Ichigo as he walked through the no-man's land, drawing farther away from the Palace.

It was a stupendously idiotic bet. He knew that. The price was a fight. The payment, his life and Orihime was collateral.

_What the fuck was I thinking? _Ichigo cursed as he hacked his way through the thorny brambles, emerging from the ordeal in a sweat. His cloak had snagged on the thorns but came away unscathed. He may not have had time to explore its properties but he was coming to see that he had been given a highly useful gift. It shielded him from the worst of stings and the bitter cold wind that blew around him while allowing him to walk unseen among other ghosts.

But as he turned, he immediately drew out Zangetsu.

Fear swept along his neck like a fever while a familiar, dormant anger awoke with fully fury as he gazed at what was in front of him.

A barren white tree grew out of the cracked ground and sitting underneath it was a man, who had his sights set on a particular branch. Even in such meager settings, he still possessed his princely bearing. His face, handsome. His countenance, tranquil and wise. To someone who was unaware of his long history, he would have appeared harmless to them. But Ichigo knew better. Of course, how could he have forgotten...how could he have not _considered_ it?

That Aizen would be here too.

"_You son of a bitch_." Ichigo's voice was filled with venom.

Aizen hardly moved.

Not wasting a second, Ichigo bared his hand and prepared to draw it over his face when he heard Aizen speak.

"...how perplexing." Aizen's deep, melodious voice wondered aloud. "If I reach out with my hand, it draws back. If I stay still, it grows bigger yet it will not drop. If I destroy the tree, then there will be nothing left of it. If only I had had my sword..." Here, he cast his head down to his empty side.

"What..." Ichigo stared on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what Aizen was looking at: a single apple hanging aloft a nimble branch. It was a strangely beautiful thing, what with its silver peel and alluring fragrance. He watched, confused, as Aizen attempted to reach for it but the fruit remained out of his grasp. The tree, though bereft of leaves and flora, appeared alive and seemed to exist solely to torment Aizen in this perpetual cat-and-mouse game.

Ichigo couldn't believe it.

For a man who had been so fixated on maximizing his powers, to see him reduced to such limitations was embarrassing. But fitting, too. Although he was sure that there were many in Soul Society who would have preferred a more brutal existence when it concerned Aizen. Imagining him being crushed and battered by demons and the harshest elements had been the ideal scenario.

It did not take long for Ichigo to finally realize that Aizen could neither see, hear, or sense him.

Aizen was too absorbed in gaining the fruit for his own or perhaps he had been cursed that way, to be forever wanting something but unable to attain it. A fine punishment for a shinigami who sought to become a god in his own right.

Coming to an understanding at last and a reluctant respect for Death for devising such a thing, Ichigo let down Zangetsu and gazed at Aizen's fallen form. He felt no pity, no inclination towards mercy. Not even anger. Only a cold, grim satisfaction that there really was justice even in perdition. And so, with that in mind, Ichigo left Aizen alone to his incomprehensible musing and permanent state of starvation.

He did not look back.

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.oO*Oo.

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For a long stretch of time, there was nothing but wide wastelands.

Ichigo encountered few specters after seeing Aizen but they brushed past him without a sound, continuing their miserable sojourn alone. Once, he came across several stalks of a white, ghostly flower—the only thing that seemed to thrive in perdition. In spite of its pallid appearance, he felt comforted by this rare display of life and beauty. Closing his hand over the thick stem, he broke off a bloom and for the rest of the journey he carried it in his left palm.

The silence loomed above him, making him painfully aware that he was by himself. There was no Renji to tease with, no Rukia to talk to, no Ishida to scold him, and no Chad to back him up. He could not even depend that they or some other captain in Soul Society would magically appear in the nick of time to help him win this thing. Saving Orihime was a job that he alone had to do.

But the weight of the task was heavy. If he failed…no, he didn't want to think about it but he had to…he had to be realistic…

If he failed, he and Orihime would be stuck here forever. He would be dead, actually _dead_. He wouldn't get to finish highschool or even make it to college. He wouldn't be there for subsequent birthdays and holidays for Karin and Yuzu. Isshin would never get the chance to know him as an adult. A real man.

Ichigo drew in a shaky breath.

Even as a shinigami, he could still feel the semblance of a heart pumping beneath his chest and blood flowing through his veins. _Live, live, live._The constant rhythm of life still pounded inside him but only now was he aware of how limited the number of his breaths were, how short his heartbeats could be.

With a pang, Ichigo realized that he had never gotten a chance to say goodbye to anyone. He had gone headlong into this with the determination of winning and by god, he would try. But even the bravest of men had to face the fact that strength could not overcome mortality. So as he walked, he mentally scribbled farewell notes to the people that he cared about, those whom he had protected, others he respected, and the few that he loved.

_I don't know what brought you into my room that night, Rukia, but I'm glad,_Ichigo smiled to himself as he recalled that fateful autumn night,_I can't repay what you did for me…you gave me the power to help my friends in a way I wasn't able to do for my mother. I owe you for that._

_Renji, Ishida, Chad…_he mentally conjured their images in his head…_thanks for having my back. You've always been there, no matter what the situation was. I'm sorry I pushed you all away. I just feel like this is my fault and I have to be the one to fix it…_

And so the list went on. Urahara, Yoruichi, Tessai. All the Vaizards. Ukitake, Kyoraku, even Byakuya. All of whom had tested his limits and pushed him to be faster, smarter, better. Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki, friends at school. People who had been with him since childhood, who made him laugh and reminded him that he was just like everybody else, no different than the rest.

His family.

_Dad, Yuzu, Karin…_Ichigo closed his eyes and no sooner had he opened them, the faces of his father and sisters dissolved away to reveal a dreary black seascape. A beach bordered a vast ocean, its waves angrily crashing against the grey sand. The swells were high and violent, rising almost twenty feet into the air. A bitter scent of salt permeated the active winds and as he turned his head, something white flashed in his peripheral vision.

The ground beneath him sank.

Slowly, painfully, he dragged his feet forward one at a time from the sensation then broke into a run. Sand flew about him as Zangetsu's ribbon flapped in the wind. Cold air pushed itself through his lungs as he ran, coming closer and closer.

It wasn't an illusion—it couldn't be.

It looked too real for that.

_She _looked too real...was it really...could it be...

"Inoue!"

Ichigo stumbled down to his knees, scattering sand everywhere. Staggering, he threw his arms out and grabbed the fragile shoulders, forcing them to turn towards him. Her legs twisted themselves apart from the kneeling position she had been in and as her head swiveled around, her eyes looked into Ichigo's.

"Inoue…" Ichigo felt relief wash over him.

But Orihime turned away. Her eyes traveled from one focus to another, letting her hair brush against his knuckles as her head swayed. She was wearing the same clothes that she had died in; the bloodied white fabric had been what caught Ichigo's eye earlier. Her hair was matted and dripping with seawater from the ends. Seeing her torn garments, he unfastened his cloak and swept it over her.

Still, she did not look at him.

"Are you okay?" Ichigo placed a hand on her shoulder.

Immediately, she flung it off her, regarding him in fright and distrust.

"Inoue, what—" He reached out for her but she drew back.

Ichigo was bewildered.

Why was she _acting_ like this? What had he done wrong-

He stopped, the realization coming to him like a jolt of lightening, a shock so profound that it was as if someone had punched the lights out of him and left him reeling. Staring down at Orihime, he noticed her wasn't just wet. Her clothes and skin were soaked. In silent horror, he turned to the sea. Acheron, Lethe. If she had gone through them…did that mean…?

"Inoue." Ichigo was aghast. "Don't you…don't you _know me_?"

Orihime shivered under the cloak, unable to answer. Even when Ichigo put his hands on her shoulders again and forced her to look at him, her eyes refused to meet his. Instead, they stared straight past through them and locked onto some distant point that he couldn't see.

"Remember Rukia? Chad? Ishida? Renji? Tatsuki?" He threw the names out but she made no sign to show that she knew them.

In fear, Orihime twisted herself away from him.

"Come on, Inoue, think. Tatsuki's your best friend. Chad, Ishida, and I go to school with you. Renji and Rukia are our friends."

"No." Orihime wrenched her shoulder apart from his grip. Lunging after her, his hand closed into a fist, balling the fabric of the cloak around his fingers as he pulled her close to him.

"We met the day your brother died." Ichigo bore his eyes into hers, willing every iota of his being into hers. "We—we trained together, we fought Aizen together, and we saved Rukia—Inoue, _look at me!_I _know_you remember!"

"Let me go!" Orihime gasped.

"You went to Hueco Mundo for our friends." Ichigo's voice started to crack. This conversation was not at all what he had in mind but he was desperate, rambling even. Her memory, her very individuality was gone but he would do anything, _say _anything, to get it back. It was possible, it had to be. Something of her former self still had to be in here.

"I fought for you!" The words seemed wrenched against his will. "I tried to protect you!"

She writhed in his hold as though he was poisonous to the touch and in utter desperation, she tried to push herself away with the force of her bare hands but to no avail. Her back was chained, her arms locked downward.

"You saved my life!" Ichigo was desperate. "You _loved_ me!"

"No!" In one swift movement, Orihime slapped Ichigo's face with all the strength she could muster. Then throwing herself back in fright, she edged herself away from him as far as possible and shrunk underneath her new shroud, retreating back to her quiet tears and turning her morose gaze to the sea.

Ichigo said nothing. His cheek stung yet he didn't dare raise his hand to alleviate the pain. Instead, he let it throb.

"I…" He tried to speak but his voice came out no more than a strained whisper.

The silence solidified between them like ice.

Panic started to swirl around Ichigo's head, spinning his senses out of control. His lungs seem to have shrunk against his wildly beating heart, causing a terrible sensation of weight in his chest. Breaths were becoming short. Sweat formed along his forehead. Why hadn't anyone prepared him for this? Why had no one told him this was going to happen?

Zangetsu lay next to him, useless.

_What should I do…_Ichigo stared at Orihime, feeling farther away from her than ever before. _What should I do…?_

He turned around but there was no one there to give him the help he so craved. Rukia was gone. Renji, Ishida, and Sado were absent. There was no captain here to issue orders or give him counsel and Urahara was too far to call for assistance.

_What should I do?_

He had waged war against an opponent reputed to be virtually invincible and the person he wanted to rescue was in a catatonic state. She was too frightened, too broken to be moved. He had no strategy, no ideas on how to fix this.

_What should I do? What should I do?_

He had defied Yamamoto, dragged three captains into stealing the Royal Key, and broke a thousand rules along the way. Gone from Hueco Mundo to Heaven and Hell. Fought to the bone against the Espada, pushing himself against all odds and limits, even if it cost him another limb, another drop of blood. So many people had risked their lives to get him to this point, all of them sacrificing a great deal in the hope he would do the impossible.

Frantic, he reached for his sword when he stopped. Trails of disturbed sand lied in the wake of his hand and amidst his anguished haze, he glimpsed Orihime's huddled form. Something like a knife twisted inside him.

_Nothing. _A cold, nameless entity from his tormented conscience seemed to say. _You owe her and you have_nothing.

Ichigo cowered, putting his hands in his hair.

Wave after wave, a nauseating fear crashed against his wracked conscience that left him panting for air. And just when there seemed no end to it, a thought emerged from the irrational chaos and swept over Ichigo's mind. Quietly, gradually, it numbed every emotion until it left him in a strange kind of mental paralysis.

Then one by one, his fingers loosened and let the handle of Zangetsu slip through. Swords were no more use here. Dazed, he raised his head and slowly got up to his knees.

The action that followed came without thought.

He threw his arms around Orihime from behind. Scared, she tried turning around but when that didn't work, she began fighting tooth-and-nail to be released.

"_Let go!"_

But Ichigo held her fast.

"Your name is Inoue Orihime." He said in a tight voice. "Your birthday's in September—you live in Karakura Town—your house is two blocks from mine. You're the most popular girl in school, everybody says so. You're not just smart—you're funny and brave."

"—_no_—"

_"_You're beautiful." The corners of his eyes burned as he struggled to keep her still. "And you're good. You're even nice to the people who treat you like crap because you're that kind—you're always cheerful—you always smile—you _never _give up—"

His throat constricted and the words that followed cost him an enormous amount of effort.

"I'm not even half as strong as you are. I know what you did for our friends…for me…and I know why you did it."

"_Let—go—!"_Orihime begged.

"I know it was me who made you sad all the time." Ichigo staggered. "And I'm sorry…I really am. I'm so sorry."

Orihime broke down into tears, unable to comprehend let alone register what he was saying. In vain, she clawed or pounded with her fists at the arms that refused to let her escape.

"I don't expect you to forgive me." He said thickly. "You might not know who I am anymore but I want you to at least know this. You never gave up on me—and I'm not going to give up on you." His lips moved closer to her ear. "I promised that I'd get you back, no matter how hard or how long it took. It wasn't your time to die that day. A lot of people care about you too much to let you go…including me."

"Please…" Orihime sobbed.

"I came here to save you, not to hurt you."

Her grip slackened.

Then as her limbs began to grow limp, her hands unfurled out of their fists then slid down Ichigo's forearms in defeat. Her mind was in disarray, overwhelmed with information she did not understand. Was this person an enemy? Wasn't he here to hurt her? But he said that wasn't what he was here for…that he was here to…oh god, why couldn't she make any sense of it? Anguished by her confusion and too tired to fight off her attacker, she let her head fall back onto his shoulder and wept.

And as Ichigo cradled her in his arms, he pressed his lips against her hair and together, they stayed in locked embrace, letting their tears and breaths slowly become one as they slipped into the shadowy stillness of the netherworld and let time pass them by.

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.oO*Oo.

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Seconds...

...minutes...

...hours...

At some point, Ichigo couldn't discern the exact time, he let Orihime pull away from his hold then attempted to persuade her to come with him. Unfortunately, the reaction was not what he had expected.

She outright refused. So panicked was she about the prospect of returning to the Palace of Justice that her breathing came out in spasms.

"No, no, I can't go back, it's so dark, so _cold_…there are so many _people._ They hit you…they laugh at you…" She was horrified. Not only that, she mistrusted his intentions and was still afraid of him.

Undeterred, Ichigo used every ounce of patience he had and with the gentlest of words he could muster, he tried to keep her calm and convince her that she could rely on him. Quickly, he realized she grew agitated when he asked her to remember things she obviously had no recollection of so he refrained from speaking of past events. Instead, he made her focus on other things. Like the fact she was no longer alone, that she had someone to help her.

"I'm here for you. Just you." Ichigo tried to hold her hands but she withdrew.

"No." She shook her head, afraid. "You…you're just another ghost. You're not real…you…you're here to hurt me, to make me remember bad things."

"I'm not a ghost." Ichigo sat back and held up both hands in a gesture of peace. He partly opened his robe and shift to reveal a sliver of skin. "No chain, see?"

Carefully, he reached over and let his hands rest lightly on Orihime's shoulders.

"Look at me."

Unwillingly, she complied, expecting to see hollow grey or some glint of malicious intent. Instead, she found a pair of brown eyes gazing at her with such intensity she felt an urge to look away. But she didn't and the more she grew accustomed to it, the better she could see that these were not the eyes of an imprisoned spirit like herself.

"I'm here for you." Ichigo repeated with such sincerity that even in her disoriented state, Orihime was startled by it. "You can trust me."

She hesitated. Obviously still frightened, she gave the tiniest of nods.

"Okay." Ichigo returned a weak smile. "Okay. Do you think you can stand up?"

Trembling, Orihime made a valiant effort to rise from the sand and with Ichigo's help, she had the cloak fastened around her thin frame and grasping her by the hand, they started to walk.

Together, they journeyed from the beach to the wastelands in relative silence. Several times, Ichigo turned back to reassure himself that Orihime was still behind him as though she were in danger of disappearing. He squeezed her fingers, reveling in the solidness of her physicality as he started to edit the original plan in his head.

He would head towards the Palace but only to get to the Bridgeway of Dreams. Fighting would risk both of their lives and that was a chance he was unwilling to take. She had seen and been through enough. If he could reach the Bridgeway without being detected, they could pass from Hell into Heaven and back to Soul Society again.

"We're almost there." Ichigo coaxed as Orihime followed him.

Orihime said nothing but clung tighter to the hand that was leading her.

A jagged outline of the Palace cut out from the wilderness and taking advantage of the shadows that lingered along its high walls, they hid themselves and entered into the hall with as much discretion as their cover could afford them. Careful to keep Zangetsu in its wrappings, Ichigo hid himself behind the many pillars while keeping Orihime close to him.

Death was nowhere to be found.

Legions of lost souls had filtered back into the hall and filled its empty spaces with their insubstantial forms. Their despair and apathy only added to the already cold and inhospitable atmosphere of Hell. The more ghosts she passed, though unseen, the harder Orihime trembled. Her face was white as clay and her eyes were that of a martyr knowingly walking to a torturous end.

Seeing her fright, Ichigo enclosed his fingers over hers.

"It's going to be fine. Really...everything's going to be—"

An icy wave of recognition traveled down his spine.

He saw Orihime's lips part in horror and as he slowly turned his head, he saw an alighted face stand out among the grey shades. It smiled, it laughed, satisfied at the direction that the game was headed in.

Mute and beautiful, it walked, almost with a light sprig in its step. What little light there was, shone on its curling golden hair and shadowed its eyes as it turned to look at Ichigo.

"Did you really think," Death's sly voice echoed in the dark, "I was going to make this easy?"


	13. Mind Games

There is this moment.

It happens with a flash of pain, a vivid image of what is to come, then a paralyzing chill that numbs the entire body. And quite quickly, painfully, the entire world seems as though it has stopped in its orbit and caved into a black hole.

Tatsuki's eyes were burning. Her head felt like it was made of lead and supported on too fragile of a neck. She couldn't see, couldn't think. Had Ishida not put out his arm to catch her, she would have fallen to the ground. Her throat…her throat hurt so much. When had she started yelling? Was it the part when Ishida told her Orihime couldn't come back? Or was it when Ishida said she was dead?

"_What?" _All air went out of Tatsuki's lungs.

And all Ishida could do was gaze back at her with this look…this helpless look that said there was nothing to be done, no solution, no other way. This was the truth and she had to accept it.

"_God—damn—you!_" Tatsuki screamed. Enraged, she threw Ishida aside. "_How—could—he—you—all of you—do—this?_"

Her cries were so loud that immediately, a crowd of students made their way to Class A homeroom. But when they stumbled in, it was clear to everyone that this was a scene that they weren't meant to observe. It was painfully apparent that something awful had happened between Tatsuki and Ishida. But no one could figure out the true cause so they continued standing near the doorway and watched on in mute shock and curiosity.

"—_should have gotten her away from all that spirit world bullshit! Why'd you all encourage her? Why'd you let Ichigo drag her there and put her in danger like that! Why? You all should have left her ALONE!" _ Chest heaving, she lunged out and pushed him hard as though she were challenging him to fight.

"_You—Ichigo—the whole damn lot of you—were supposed to keep Orihime safe! He _promised…_he fucking promised me!"_

"It wasn't Kurosaki's fault." Ishida said, hardly raising a hand to defend himself against her onslaught of accusations.

"_Everything that's happened is because of him!" _howled Tatsuki. "_If he wasn't so obsessed with getting stronger and having more powers, Orihime would still be_ here! _He'd be normal! He wouldn't be chasing ghosts all the time!" _

In the wake of this extraordinary outburst, everyone stared after her then looked at each other in bewilderment.

Ishida however remained cool and collected. Given the circumstances, he was willing to forgive Tatsuki for her mistake but he knew if he let her carry away too much, she could compromise him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sado standing near the doorway and watching him with deep concern. Sending a covert nod, he turned his attention back to Tatsuki.

"I understand you are upset. Anyone would be with this situation." Ishida said in a tone that could have been construed as comforting. "But there's nothing to worry about. Kurosaki and Inoue-san are fine."

An unmistakable expression of deep disgust and incredulity appeared on Tatsuki's face. After all that…after what she just heard…Ishida was still willing to lie to everyone about what really happened?

"_Are you serious_?" Tatsuki hissed through her teeth. "_Are you kidding me?"_

"They'll be back soon. I just got off the phone with them two days ago. If you want to talk to them, I can give you the number of the hotel they're staying at." Ishida continued without skipping a beat. "Really, Arisawa, there's no need to get upset like this."

In a flash, Ishida was slammed against the chalkboard.

Oblivious to the gasps and cries from the other students, Tatsuki seized his vest and lifted him a few inches off the floor.

"_Stop with the lying_."

"What—what the—? Arisawa!" As soon as he saw the cause of the commotion, Keigo pushed his way through the clusters of people. Behind him, Mizuiro was at his heels and together, they attempted to pull her away.

"Let him go, c'mon, just let him go." Keigo appealed to Tatsuki though without much success.

"Tatsuki." Mizuiro warned. "You could get suspended for this."

"_I don't care_."

"Arisawa—look—just—just calm down—ah—_calm down_." Keigo pleaded desperately, putting up a valiant effort in separating her from Ishida.

"Did you tell them?" Tatsuki demanded.

Ishida remained resolutely silent. His glasses flashed white in the afternoon sunlight, making his expression unreadable.

"Did it ever occur to any of you," Tatsuki's voice rang out through the classroom, "that Orihime might NOT be fine like he says?"

Finally, Sado decided to step in. Barely taking three steps, he was at Ishida's side and pried Tatsuki off with ease. Being much taller than she, he looked down at her with an unusually stern gaze.

"You have every right to be upset." Sado's lips hardly moved so it was difficult to discern for the onlookers to understand what he was saying. "But now is not the time or the place. We can talk about this but somewhere private. We'll answer anything you ask. No lies, just the truth. Just not here."

For several minutes, nothing else was said or heard other than the whispers and murmurs from the crowd behind them. Then finally, Tatsuki raised her head to meet Sado's eye and gave a tiny nod of assent.

Later that afternoon, when everyone had gone home, Sado and Ishida led Tatsuki, Keigo, and Mizuiro to another empty classroom. In what was one of the hardest hours Sado and Ishida had to endure in their life, they explained the situation with all the horrific details.

What followed was more shock, grief, and disbelief.

Once the three had quieted down, Sado and Ishida kept their word. They answered every single question with great patience and repeated themselves when something was not readily understood. The only inquiry they could not answer was the most crucial one.

Would Ichigo and Orihime _ever_ come back?

"We don't know." After some hesitation, Ishida unwillingly added: "That's up to Kurosaki."

"He just in by _himself_?" Tatsuki could barely contain the anger in her voice.

"So,"Mizuiro quietly interjected, "you're saying it could take…well…forever, right?"

Keigo remained absolutely silent. In the time elapsed, his face had gone from stark white to a faint green as though he were sick to his stomach. He did not move nor did he speak as though afraid the slightest word or sway could bring about the apocalypse.

"Why didn't you tell us in the first place?" Tatsuki burst out.

Ishida averted his eyes. "We were ordered to." He said at last. "When Sado-kun and I left, we were told we had no choice but to lie. Even to you. If everyone knew, we would only have created panic and confusion."

"We're Ichigo's and Orihime's friends!" Tatsuki snapped, irritated at Ishida's practical answer which she perceived as cold and tactless. "How could you keep something like this from us?"

Ishida bit his lip in impatience. "We only meant—"

Tatsuki leapt to her feet.

"You were supposed to look out for her." Her eyes were full of blame. "But you did _nothing_."

Instantly, Ishida and Sado went stark white.

"Tatsuki!" Mizuiro warningly called out but it was too late. She had already turned her back on them, having seen and heard enough.

Her best friend was dead. Her childhood companion had followed to the grave. Her entire school knew next to nothing and she couldn't tell anyone about what really happened. Things had been forever changed and try as she might, she could not bring herself to hope.

Ichigo and Orihime were never coming back.

And as that realization hit her, a tear slid down her cheek as she grabbed the knob and shut the door behind her.

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.oO*Oo.

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"I am...surprised."

Death paced right and left as his eyes traveled to where Orihime stood. "You found her _intact_ after all."

Neither made a sound.

"Or did I speak too soon?" asked Death, noticing the obvious effect his presence was making on the girl. "Thinking of running away before things get started?" He smiled at her trembling but the amusement was short-lived. Swiftly, Ichigo planted himself in front of Orihime, blocking her from view.

"I never knew you were such a coward." Death's voice became considerably colder. "Have you forgotten our agreement?"

"I don't trust you." Ichigo answered in quiet fury.

"Good." Death nodded approvingly. "You're not as gullible as the last ones, I'll give you that." He raised his head a little higher so Ichigo could see his eyes gleaming with impending anger. "But you won't take away what belongs here."

Immediately, Ichigo was on the defensive. "Inoue doesn't—"

"She is dead." Death cut in. "There is no place for her in your world anymore."

"That isn't true and you damn well know it!"

"You think that highly of her, do you?" Death scathingly asked. "For every effect there is a cause. As a deathgod, you above all others, should understand this. That girl was brought here for a reason; it wasn't an accident."

"She isn't anything like the sick people you lock up in here." Ichigo spat.

"So quick to assume the best in everyone." Death observed with barely disguised condescension. "What a flaw to have, Kurosaki. Noble but stupid."

"_She,_" he pointed out,_ "_is far too damaged to withstand reincarnation. Even if you get her out of here and beg the Second Princess to somehow save her, her spirit will only break into pieces in the attempt. Take her out of here, she has no chance of survival, not with her carrying such heavy sins."

"What 'sins'?" Ichigo seethed, barely able to contain his anger by this point.

"Pride." Death readily answered. "She lied under pretense to flatter herself into making herself believe she had righteous character."

"You're wrong!"

"Envy," accused Death. "Did you know what she truly felt towards Kuchiki Rukia? It wasn't friendship and certainly not affection. But destructive _envy_. She wanted Rukia's powers for her self, thinking she could charm you."

Quietly, slowly, Ichigo felt Orihime sink to the floor. Her hands gathered themselves into a single knot that she anchored to her chest as she listened to the endless abuse.

"Jealousy." Death mercilessly continued. "Casting about for ways on how you could fall in love with her and jealous of new friends who constantly demanded your attention. Do you see now? She is _nothing_. An unimportant excuse for a human being—"

"SHUT UP!"

"And _this_," Death ridiculed with venom, "is the _saint _you are defending."

Ichigo lost it.

Charging head on without a single strategy in mind, he swung his sword in one great arc only to have it clash against Death's hand.

Ghosts screamed as energy blasted out from the impact like an exploded bomb. Their cries ricocheted all along the hall and rang out ten-fold as the columns shook from their foundations and the ground trembled hard. A deep crack split across along marble while sparks wildly flew up into the air.

Eyes blazing, an animalistic snarl escaped Ichigo's lips as he pressed the blade's edge on Death's limb.

With a speculative, clinical interest, Death met his gaze over the grating cutlass between them. Humans. What a race to inhabit the earth. Pestilent as cockroaches, desperate like rats in a cage. Shinigami were not much better. A step up, perhaps, but equally worthless as their mortal counterparts. But they had their uses and what he liked nothing more was to see how far he could stretch the elastic band of their sanity before it snapped. _That _was amusement. _That _was exciting.

"Why," Death looked into Ichigo's face, "are you so dedicated to your cause?"

As an answer, Ichigo threw him off and slashed horizontally only to cut nothing but air. With a dancer's grace, Death stepped around him and attempted to strike from behind, meeting Zangetsu's steely surface instead.

"Even if you win, she'll still be dead. She can't go back to the living world with you. You're fighting just to give her a few more years in Soul Society—maybe not even years. Months. Days. She'll still die."

_Slam! _

In breakneck speed, Zangetsu zipped across then sent a full shockwave of black energy that smashed against a row of columns right behind his opponent, sending him straight into a wall.

Thrown off balance yet unharmed, Death raised himself from the debris then clapped his hands together. Dust flew from his palms.

"Time for a change."

In a flash he was gone.

As Ichigo was left standing in shocking bewilderment, he lost a few seconds. A few, precious seconds which cost his attention and by the time he swiveled around, he was too late.

Death was already at Orihime's side. Child that he was in form, his hand was stretched out against the top of her head and held her close to him without exerting much effort. When she started to struggle, his grip tightened.

"Let us try," Death's voice rang throughout the air, "a different playground."

In an instant, Ichigo was running.

He did not know why but he felt as though he were disconnected from mind and body, an active participant yet a conscious spectator too. He could see himself sprinting, his chest heaving up and down, the black robes flying at the hem, the ribbon on Zangetsu's handle undulating in the wind. His sandals slipped along the insubstantial floor as he kept running…running…why was Orihime so far away…? Why hadn't he used a flash step? How could he have just left her there?

Too late for regrets.

He could feel horror dawn on him as he watched Death's hand reach down for Orihime's neck in sickening slow motion and just as he wrenched his jaws apart to scream, to send another attack, a sickening white light flashed into his eyes, blanking out everything and everyone in sight.


	14. Hollow Conquest

How constricting the quiet seemed as Ichigo lay unconscious on the ground, suspended in the strangest state of unconsciousness and awareness. He could still sense light even though his eyes were closed, as his arms and legs lay useless on what felt like concrete pavement.

An odd thought came to his head.

Was this what Orihime felt as she lay senseless in Rukia's arms before the last breath in her body left? Did she feel any pain when Gin's lance hit her? Did she see her own blood run from the hole in her chest...?

Ichigo wrenched his eyes open.

All sense of space and direction was gone as he beheld a cloudy skyline punctured by skyscrapers. With singular awareness, he picked up the sharp scent of asphalt and squinted at the neon lights blinking in his face. He heaved himself up, staggering as he lifted his body from the ground using his core and hands. Feeling as though he were waking from a drug-induced sleep, his eyes swiveled around in a daze.

Painted white hatchings glared out of the black background of the street and when he looked up, a circle of buildings glittering with advertisements and lights surrounded him. Banners boasting a famous actress's face lined the windows of one building. A glass bridgeway led into a shopping mall stacked from the ground floor and up with countless stores. He could even see the interiors of a nearby hotel and a café. Mega LCD screens were plastered to the side of an edifice, flashing displays of commercials and posters from upcoming films.

"Welcome home."

Ichigo spun around.

There was something hideous about the way Death appeared to him this time. A decayed and withered face belonging to a much older man was now stamped upon a child's form. His chromatic eyes searched around his new surroundings with detached interest like a newborn would. Orihime remained exactly where she had been moments before, kneeling at Death's feet with her face turned away. But even from a distance, Ichigo could see her breathing was coming out in shallow breaths and her hands were shaking.

"I thought we needed a change of scenery." sighed Death. "This is not exactly what I had in mind but it'll have to do."

"_What did you—_" Ichigo stopped, noticing a street sign.

Impossible. He must have read it wrong. _Shibuya Crossing?_ This was in Tokyo…far from Karakura's prefecture, even farther away from where he was supposed to be. He glanced left and right, realizing for the first time that there were no people. The buildings were all empty; the café tables were barren; the shopping mall was strangely quiet. Electronic screens buzzed all around and yet there was no human voice added to the white noise.

"Where do you think we are?" Death waited for an answer but when he got none, he theatrically gestured down to Orihime.

Blood drained from Ichigo' face.

"That's right, shinigami. Every detail, every piece of what you and I are see belongs to her. She may not remember you but she is still aware of her humanity. That is why this projection of the living world exists inside her."

To demonstrate his point, Death removed his hand from Orihime's head and flung it away from him so his palm faced a building about a hundred feet away. Concrete split then cracked before it burst away. The sound of breaking glass and bending metal screeched in Ichigo's ears but no sound was more clear and agonizing than Orihime struggling to breathe.

She fell away from Death, crumpling into a mess of white cloth.

A nanosecond later, Ichigo blitzed out of sight, snatched up Orihime into his arms, and fled to the farthest location he could think of. The moment his feet touched ground again, Orihime leaned further into his chest, clinging to the front of his robes in childish desperation. Fear had turned her eyes into two circles of hysteria and when he tried to set her down, she would not let go.

"Naturally." Death turned a sympathetic eye. "Such pain is to be expected."

Taking a step back, he opened his arms wide to embrace the urban scenery. "The mind is a special place, shinigami. It is the perfect battlefield that can make such a spectacle of war. The combination of imagination and individual will make the challenge of fighting infinitely harder. Every hit is magnified tenfold onto its maker and in this case, that poor girl you're holding now just got a taste of what it'll be like when you and I fight it out."

"Impressive, isn't it?" said Death, taking Ichigo's silence for shock. He twisted his neck around, drinking in the architecture. His gaze fell away from the metropolis and to his immense satisfaction, he could sense a sudden spike of change in the boy's aura.

But Ichigo did not attack. Instead he guided Orihime to lay on the ground in slow, deliberate movements. Cradling the back of her head with his left palm, he extricated her fingers from his robes then set them down. Slowly, he stepped away and turned his full attention to Death.

"This isn't what I wanted."

"On the contrary," Death inclined his head. "It is exactly as you requested. You said you wanted her back so why not make her mind the starting point of our battle?"

"_Leave her out of this._" Ichigo said in a dangerous voice. "I'm the one you're supposed to fight. Don't involve her."

"You're in no position to give terms." sneered Death.

Ichigo raised his blade towards his opponent. "I'll fight you." He reaffirmed. "But not here."

"I don't think—"

"I won't let you violate her like this."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a pearlescent grey light shone out of Ichigo's eyes. Blue streaks of pure reiatsu emerged from the ground and began to swirl around him, forming a protective orb pulsating with energy. Zangetsu flashed menacingly in the light.

Death solidified his stance. All at once, the air thickened and the dead calm was interrupted by the sounds of distant rumbling. Street lamps started to bend and twist at odd angles. Windows splintered, crack by crack, until the glass shattered.

"Fight me as long as you can." He taunted as buildings around them groaned from the growing pressure. "Or should I rephrase that? Defeat me before the girl's mind collapses."

His arms stretched out and in one fluid motion then a turn of a wrist, he suddenly lifted his hand in an upward motion, causing the cement to crack and burst open to reveal gas lines. The pipes shot out of the ground and broke open, bursting into flame.

A wave of overwhelming heat hit Ichigo before an onslaught of fire sped towards him. Without thinking twice, he spun around, gathering as much momentum and reiatsu as he could then turning to face the flames, he pushed it back with his own energy to negate the attack.

Undeterred, Death clenched his fists, forcing the very earth to respond. Asphalt crumbled and concrete split even further, rumbling and tumbling to form boulders that were then thrown at every direction in Ichigo's way.

Left—forward—right—

Ichigo swept Zangetsu out in front of him, flinging back electrified bands of energy and turning the rocks into ash. He ran forward only to be diverted by another rash of flames. The café tables and chairs behind him caught on fire, turning black and red from the overwhelming heat.

"Try a little harder, this is getting boring already." Death outstretched his hand again, this time to have the shattered glass rise and form into a glittering, deadly stream levitating in the air. Twisting and coiling around in the air like a snake, it plunged downward.

Diving out of its way, Ichigo sliced the air with his blade, splitting the glass river into two only to have it multiply into five more strands filled with razor-like shards. They chased after him with ferocious speed, impacting everything they touched and leaving sparkling remnants embedded onto the surface.

Guiding the glass with one hand, Death gestured towards a nearby fountain. The water in the pool arose high and crashed its way out, the torrents coursing fast along the crossing and slamming Ichigo against the base of a building.

Ichigo swirled helplessly around, encased in a suffocating mass of water and struggling to breathe as the wave continued to pin him against the wall. His eyes burned as he kept them open and his lungs were beginning to feel as though lead had been pumped into them. His robes floated around him like black balloons and were filled with water, pulling him down…down…down…

Just as his sight was beginning to dim, he took a risk and opened his mouth.

"G_etsuga…_" Bubbles issued from his mouth and floated to the surface. "…_tensho." _

Blindly, he thrust the sword out, allowing the water to explode around him. Falling straight down, he coughed and sputtered out excess fluid. Chest heaving, he forced himself to stand up and swiped back his soaked hair away from his eyes. Smoke was rising in black plumes and the smell of burnt metal permeated the air.

A great torrent of fire suddenly appeared only to be neutralized once again by Ichigo. He flung the offense back with an enormous wave of condensed reiatsu. Springing away, Death escaped the attack, gliding through the metropolis with fire and leaving trails of flames in his wake. A torrent of fireballs followed, whizzing furiously to the direction of their target.

Ichigo flashed-stepped his way in and out, from one corner to the other, trying to pin down his opponent but to no avail. Frustrated, he passed a clawed hand over his face, feeling bits of porcelain and bone swim along his skin until a rigid mask had formed. Already, he could feel a difference in his speed and agility as the hollow energy flowed through his body and expanded his physical capabilities to even higher limits.

"GETSUGA TENSHO!"

A megascreen burst from its place as the building it hung from folded onto itself, tearing down hangings and falling several hundred feet before smashing onto the crossing.

Grinning, Death stopped in his tracks and swept his arms around in perfect form, causing the flames to condense and rise again into several perfect lines of blue. Using his hands, he mimicked the motions of a whip, scourging the city and everything in his path. The lines lashed and hissed as they licked up the sides of walls, turning everything that touched it into ash while flying through the air to catch Ichigo into its destructive embrace.

"_Shit!" _

Ichigo held Zangetsu over him, forming another crescent barrier of black energy to separate himself from the fire.

The two forces collided with a blast.

A deafening explosion shook all foundations causing the remaining edifices to sway from the impact. The sky reddened as ash and smoke rose even higher into the atmosphere.

_Think, damn it, think! _Ichigo cursed as he continued to dodge his opponent. Already, he could feel his frustration reaching its breaking point as the cat-and-mouse game continued to drag out. Using the dust clouds for cover, he threw himself into desolate corner and tried to use every second of his respite to figure out what he was doing.

Why was nothing working? Every time he sent out an attack, Death escaped from them so easily as though he could see them coming seconds—even _minutes—_beforehand. He didn't even know what this being's powers were. Death wasn't using a zanpakutou of any kind either so what was the source of his strength?

_ He can go into people's minds…_Ichigo started to list out. _He can control fire…water…glass…no…_

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, shinigami," Death mocked, blasting a massive hole through the side of a shopping center only to see that Ichigo was not there. He casually strolled through the streets, every now and then causing a random building to collapse as he hunted out his opponent in this sprawling city.

_Minds…fire…water…ground…_Ichigo recited. _No, it's the earth…_he quickly corrected himself. _Maybe he can control the air too…he makes them into something…something they're not…something that they weren't…_

And in that last crucial second, finally, he understood. Whether it was an epiphany sent by some guardian angel that was watching over him this whole time or he was a pure genius, he didn't know, but whatever it was, he was grateful. It was all manipulation. That was the very nature of Death's power. It was a close, if not identical, talent to that of Aizen's though this was no illusion. Everything that was happening now was real.

"Ah!" Suddenly Ichigo found himself flying backwards in the air and clumps of concrete-steel that bludgeoned his face and chest from the ensuing impact. He skidded along the asphalt road, tumbling and bumping until at last he landed with a crash, forming a massive crater into the crossing. Screaming from the pain of shattered ribs and a broken leg, he fell back, winded in his agony.

"Found you." Death stood above the ruins of Ichigo's hiding place. He strode past it and came to a stop about a hundred feet from where Ichigo lied.

"It appears," the disappointment in Death's voice was heavy, "that I was mistaken. You are no different from the others."

But Ichigo could not respond. All that came out were gurgles and short breaths.

"Do you know what's going to happen next?" Death asked as the expression of satisfaction dimmed on his face and was replaced with cold impassivity. He stepped closer to Ichigo until he was barely inches away. Reaching down, he roughly tugged at Ichigo's hair and forced his head to turn to face him. Only a third of the Hollow mask had survived from the impact. There were the bruised eyes still yellowed by dark matter. The cheeks so battered that there was nothing but a mess of blood and tissue. The lips were cut. The hair matted with dirt. This was not the visage of a worthy adversary but a human. A pathetic, _weak _human with an equally pathetic cause.

Death leaned in closer.

"You're going to try to stand up and fight me but you can't. Your body is too broken." His eyes swept over Ichigo in quiet disgust. "And while you fail in doing that, I am going to go over there…on that corner…and take back what is rightfully mine."

Whatever light there was left in Ichigo's swollen eyes faded.

"Ah, but I'm not that heartless." Death whispered. "I'll leave you here so she can always have you in her shattered mind. You'll both be together…in a sense. Am I not merciful, shinigami? Merciful death."

When Ichigo didn't answer, he flung the boy back onto the street and turning his attention to Orihime who lay in apathy from the throes of pain, he started to walk.

A rising sense of panic overcame Ichigo.

_I have to move, _he thought in desperation, _I have to move! _

He flexed his fingers and attempted to sit up but his back remained glued to the ground.

_Move…move…! _

But neither arm nor leg stirred.

The sound of Death's footsteps grew faint as he came closer and closer to Orihime. Surging whatever willpower he had left what with his strength being reduced to a veneer of its full potential, Ichigo forced himself to turn over to the side. Warm blood streamed down his face as he struggled to prop himself up with his forearms then collapsed in exhaustion.

This couldn't be happening...

He gazed after Death's ambling figure in horrified silence. How did he get beaten so easily? How had he become so weak in such little time? His hands clenched into themselves, dragging bits of dust and rock into his palm. Using his legs, he slid forward and started to crawl his way toward Orihime.

By now, Death had reached his target. He knelt beside the girl who lay prostrate in her anguish and placed his hand on her cold forehead. All around him were irreparably damaged streets and buildings on the brink of collapse. Flaming remnants of a crumbling world.

"I doubt you'll remember anything after I'm done with you." He said. His eyes bore into her own, communicating with her beyond the haze of pain. "Perhaps you can have the consolation of knowing someone tried. He didn't win. But he certainly tried."

He raised a hand to strike.

Pulling himself through the rubble with titanic effort, Ichigo grit his teeth but no matter how hard he pushed himself, he was still too far away.

_I'm not going to make it. _

The thought paralyzed him. Then quite painfully, suddenly, his lungs seized up inside his chest. He opened his mouth to breathe but instead, a severe fit of coughing overtook him. Physical exhaustion had now forced him to be a spectator to his downfall that was rapidly unfolding before him. He couldn't believe it. This was it. Death had won _again. _

So many people had taken risks and sacrifices for him to get here and here he was, lying on the ground in his own filth and having to watch Orihime dying a second time. The shock of defeat was overwhelming. His face screwed up in torment as images flashed in his head. Rukia. Renji. Ishida. Sado. Urahara. Yoruichi. Kyoraku. Ukitake. Byakuya. Tatsuki. Yuzu. Karin. Isshin. Their eyes were full of blame as each one expressed their bitterness to him.

…_how could you have lost…_

_ …so disappointed in you…_

_ …how could you…_

_ …how…?_

_ …it's all your fault. _

And in this whirlwind of despair, the silvery white apparition of Gin appeared before him and with that dreadful smile on his face, Ichigo heard him speak.

_Too late…Ku-ro-sa-ki-chan! _

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_You won't take her from me._

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_Ever again._

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Deep within, there was a void that had grown for some time, nursed by grief and desolation. There, darkness thrived since its inception and when the barriers of self-restraint and survival instinct had finally worn down, a monster awoke once again from its dormancy.

An inhuman howl arose from the silence, filling every corner of this imagined world with unspeakable fear and an unholy sense of terror. The sky blackened. Acrid smoke floated towards the heavens in slow moving trails of white and all the fire that remained suddenly lost their light.

Death froze.

Slowly, he lowered his hand and turned to look behind him.

In an instant, Death was thrown aside. The blow was so hard, so abrupt that it took several seconds longer than it should have to feel pain. A dust cloud enveloped him after the blast and when it had barely settled, he found himself face-to-face with an unnamed creature.

So much—_too much_—had changed in the boy's form. His body had solidified and sculpted itself into one whole that was as cold and hard as steel. His hands and feet were no more than boned claws yet the face? There was none. Only a horned skeletal head etched with the familiar markings of the hollow mask that Death had seen earlier. No emotion save one: savagery.

Death's eyes narrowed. "What are you?"

The monster had barely lifted its claw before a black sword flew back into its grasp. He swiped the blade across Death's chest and before his opponent could fall back, he seized the deity by its face and drew it close.

What was heard next was a voice, deepened and distorted as though more than one beings resided in the beast. "_Look…at…me._"

And Death was forced to look.

A depthless pair of orbs stared at him from behind a mask. They were so far removed from human likeness that it was no longer possible to determine whether the shinigami still remained in this horrific manifestation. Lines of glowing red reiatsu emerged and outlined the monster's head.

Then before Death could control what was happening, he found himself traveling into a strange kind of darkness, eclipsing his power and coercing him to leave the girl's tattered world behind for good.

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.oO*Oo.

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The first thing Death discerned when he felt himself enter another dimension were the geometrical, windowless edifices surrounding him. There was a sky and a sea below yet somehow he had the strange sense that he was looking at them from reverse side up. It was a colorless, sparse world marred by tempestuous weather. The heavens had darkened to threatening shades of black and grey. A flash of lightening was seen followed by a clap of thunder. Heavy rains fell and slid away from the slippery tiles from which the buildings were composed of, falling down into the waters below.

In the midst of this storm, the hollow monster stood in wait. But he was not alone.

"How very interesting." Death's eyes flickered over to Orihime who was lying a few feet from where the beast was. Seeing the girl, he understood. "You brought us into your own mind."

There was no reply. Instead, a low growl escaped through the teeth, the sound of a deadly promise about to be kept in a moment's notice.

"I guess there is a bit of compassion left in you after all even with your 'transformation'…" Death spitefully leered. "You'd rather sacrifice your own self than see her get destroyed, is that it?" He broke into laughter then raised his arms as though enticing the falling rain and the chaos around him. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Lightening crackled.

"Fight me!"

To Death's delight, he watched as the beast wrenched apart its angular jaws and leaned its horns back to unleash a furious roar fueled by raw hatred and a savage desire to kill. The sound echoed throughout this imaginary world in one loud ripple after the other, adding itself to the cacophony of hissing wind, the frothing sea, and the thundering sky above.

A perfect stage set for a world's end.

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.oO*Oo.

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Terror was a paltry word to describe what Orihime felt as she felt a torrent of raindrops splashing onto her face. Turning to her side, she struggled and slipped against the glass surface in order to sit up. Water quickly seeped into her dress and turned the skirt into dragging weight. Nearby, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of battle as a sword clashed against its foe and rays of ceros ran through buildings as though it were a scythe cutting across flesh instead of steel. But when her sight cleared at last, she suddenly found herself falling downward.

The building reversed itself.

Screaming, she lifted out her arms to grab hold onto whatever she could but to no avail as she plummeted in her descent. Then just before her body hit the water, she collided into something that took her into its arms and sped away, far away to an unknown place.

It took several minutes for Orihime to regain her balance and focus, by which time she looked up to see the face of her savior. Petrified, she attempted to get away but instead, he loosened his hold and gently set her down.

"_Where…_" She gasped, backing away at once. _"…who…"_

The man stood up straighter, revealing his full height. His dark hair flowed freely in the wind and framed scarred face that looked as though it had seen and dealt with a great deal. Half dazed with pain, even in her state, Orihime could see that this man was not human. Though he did not appear kind or welcoming, he had an air about him that seemed wise and trustworthy.

"For now, this is the safest place for you." His voice echoed in the alcove. "This sanctuary will not last long. If Ichigo finishes this battle in his current state, everything will be destroyed."

Orihime investigated her surroundings. The man had taken her inside another structure far removed from the tile-planed field she had woken up in. To her shock and confusion, she could see a sky only from a lopsided perspective. Clouds of smoke and scarlet lights flashed ahead in the distance.

Dizzy, Orihime turned away from the window only to find the stranger standing behind her.

"Who…who are you?"

The man regarded her behind his glasses in guarded silence.

"Who are you?" She backed away in fright.

"One half of one whole." He answered. "I am Zangetsu."

"Zan…get…su?"

Zangetsu gazed after her. "I am an incarnation of Ichigo's sword. I have many faces, one of which has taken total domination over my master. The monster that you are seeing is _him_, neither myself nor Ichigo." He gestured to the window where, in the far-off horizon, Orihime could see a starkly white figure of a horned beast.

Visibly shaken, she withdrew to a corner in the room. She slid against the wall and sat herself upon the floor, drawing her knees together in a close huddle.

"How strange that you don't remember me." Zangetsu said at length. "My hollowed twin and I have protected you for a long time."

"I don't even know you."

"You have known us for many years. The man that took you from the beach is someone very close to you, someone who has risked his life many times for your sake. I am the sword that cut down those whom he regarded as your enemies."

He came nearer to her.

"I am sure you have noticed by now that Death has power to enter minds and control whatever is there at his leisure. A moment ago, we were in your world and now we are in Ichigo's. He has done this so that your existence remains intact. But in doing so, he has put his own self in peril and when he is done, the man that saved you will be gone forever."

Orihime closed her eyes and lowered her head, unable to take in what was going on. She could only remember pain and blurred glimpses of faces that seemed familiar yet unfamiliar to her. She knew them and yet she could not name them. Only that boy's face was as clear as day in her memory and only his voice was the one she could recall. But nothing made sense now. Why was he gone? She shuddered in her loneliness.

"Do you know why it rains here?"

Orihime looked up to see Zangetsu staring out the window.

"A great loss has been suffered and borne. It has driven this world to fold onto itself and soon there will be nothing to left. Sometimes, the sadness is so unbearable that the seas rise and cover everything in its path."

Slowly, he turned away.

"It has caused a schism between my other selves so that instead of being one, we walk in separate paths. The monster you saw is a hollow incarnation that has physically manifested itself onto Ichigo. I have been shut out and the longer that I am, the longer that I am divided, the more unstable Ichigo becomes."

Zangetsu drew out his hand. It was tightly shut into a fist and it wasn't until he had reached Orihime's side that he knelt down and revealed what he had

A pair of sparkling crystal hairpins in the shape of flowers lay in his palm.

"These belong to you." Zangetsu held them out to her. It took a great deal of time to find them since they were so well-hidden."

"…what are they…?"

"A fragment of you that Ichigo has kept within himself."

"I don't…" Orihime's voice shook. "…I don't understand."

"You will."

She hesitated but as the silence drew to a close and she searched Zangetsu's face for a sign, something deep within her stirred and gave her the courage she needed. Carefully, she reached for the hairpins and gazed at them for a long time. Her fingers traced the glittering petals and its cold center then as she turned them over, a flood of images taken from a lifetime burst through her mind.

"These…" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "…these were a gift."

_Sora. _His dear, handsome face appeared before her eyes. He was laughing…smiling at her. His hands were covered in mittens and bits of snow after making miniature snowmen all day…looking over her shoulder as she struggled to read homework…lying on a stretcher that carried him away to eternity…

Orihime's eyes welled with tears.

_Tatsuki. _Waving to her at homeroom…walking with her after school…defending her from the bullies who tormented her…teaching her to stand up for herself…

_Rukia. _Protecting her from harm…drawing those silly rabbits on her workbook…putting an arm around her in comfort, telling her she too was strong…

_Ishida…Sado…Renji…_

_Ichigo. G_uarding her against a hollow…blocking Yami's path to her…forcing Grimmjow to let her go…sacrificing himself so Ulquiorra could never come near her again…befriending her…encouraging her…fighting for her…

"Ichigo." The name fell from Orihime's lips. The recognition hit her so suddenly, so profoundly that the hairpins dropped from her hands. They clattered onto the floor, gleaming dully in the shadows. She stood up from the ground and directly looked at Zangetsu, seeing him in a wholly different light.

"I…" Her hands covered her face, overcome with emotion. Her weeping grew into anguished sobs and when she gasped for air, for relief, Zangetsu stepped forward and gripped her shoulders.

"He's…its happening again." She keened. "Just like last time…_it's all my fault_…I don't want him to die. I can't let him."

"Then your way forward is clear." Zangetsu murmured. "We are now alike in our goal. We don't have much time but there is a still chance to save him." He tightened his hold. "You will have to break him and defeat Death yourself. But we must wait for the opportune moment and when it comes, that is when you have to strike."

"Break him?"

"You must shatter his hollow mask."

"_How can I_?" Orihime bowed her head, distraught with grief and shame. "I can't do it. I can't fight. I'm not like Ichigo. I'm not a shinigami. "

"No, you are not a deathgod." Zangetsu acknowledged. "A zanpakuto can only be wielded by its master." He paused. "At the consent of the zanpakuto itself. There is no rule barring me from allowing you to use my power for a little while. If you will let me, I can guide you until the very end."

"But why are you doing this?" Her tear-stained face emerged into what little light there was in the room. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because my world cannot sustain itself any longer in this storm. It is too imbalanced." Zangetsu's expression darkened. "The horse has become the king and the king has become the horse. You are the only one who has the capability to restore what has been lost."

Orihime closed her eyes.

This was not the first time she had been told this. Restore what had been lost…yes, this phrase was a familiar refrain to her. She had known it since the beginning, the day she had been bestowed that power. Urahara knew it. Aizen had known. For so long, she had wondered what its real purpose was and believed that it was to destroy Hogyoku. But after all that had happened since then—and it was unimaginable that it had taken so much and this long—she finally understood.

It was almost surreal, too easy, to think that love was the reason. But what else could she call this? This tether that burned, tugged, and pulled at her very core. This urge to go to _him _even if it meant facing her own destruction. It was irrational and yet it made sense somehow. If Ichigo needed her, she would help him. But above all, she would never allow him to be irreparably hurt ever again. No matter how hopelessly broken he was, she would fix it. Surely that was an aim worthy of such dedication.

"Zangetsu…"

Her eyes gazed out to the battlefield.

"…take me to him."

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.oO*Oo.

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The moment Death had set his eye on the boy entering into Hell, he knew there would be a war. He had been surprised by Ichigo's youth and even more so when he realized that the boy had gone in without truly knowing why he was there in the first place. It was unfair that he, Death, was always cast a villain. That Princess and this human representative of hers were the ones who were seeking to violate natural order! Why, even this death god was nothing more than a pawn in this long-standing rivalry and yet he still sought to win.

_Yes, _Death thought as he looked on at his foe, _this one is most determined. _

He lifted a hand, commanding the glass to rise up into a vertical wall to serve as a temporary shield against an oncoming cero. When the barrier crashed, he glided backwards, attempting to get as much ground in between him and Ichigo.

But the beast would have none of it. Opening its hideous mouth wide, a cero formed then burst forward, sending an explosion after its wake. Hundreds of meters worth of steel broke away in an instant, torn by force and colliding in fire. White clouds of smoke sifted through the skies as the rains continued to fall upon the ruins.

"Isn't this fun!" Death lifted himself into the air, traversing the skies alone with the monster rapidly following at his heels.

It viciously slashed at him with its black sword, giving one wave after the other of sheer destructive energy. As though out of patience, its left claw snatched Death by his head and brutally crushed it against a skyscraper, allowing him to fly backwards into it.

Death reeled forwards instead, exhilarated. Such anger he was feeling—what elation—the contrast was almost too much to bear. Raising an arm, his fingers bent down in a gesture as though he were pulling on the sky itself until a cluster of crackling sounds echoed across the heavens. In a blink of an eye, lightening shot towards him only to be harnessed and looped back in the monster's direction.

A deafening roar filled the air as the beast was thrown back to the earth, its body encased in vibrating streams of electricity as it fell into a vast blackened crater.

But before Death could claim victory, the hollow reappeared behind him with sword in hand. It took a swipe but was blocked by a timely parry of Death's own arm.

"_Try again._" Death hissed through an opening. The blade grated against his unbreakable skin. "Try harder."

Pushing back the monster, he kicked the sword out from its claw. The empty shell of Zangetsu clattered away into distance and instead of retrieving it, the hollow seized Death by the front of his robes, causing both to slip and fall from the edge of the skyscraper. They wrestled in the air, pushing and pulling against one another, locked in deadly struggle until their landing broke them apart. Enraged, the beast rose from debris and barely taking two steps, it engaged Death to another round of hand-to-hand combat.

High above, Orihime and Zangetsu appeared. As soon as she felt her feet touch the ground, she ran over to the edge and to her horror, she saw Ichigo's hollow-fied form struggling with Death.

"Oh god." Her breath escaped her.

"Orihime."

She turned around to see Zangetsu. To her dismay and shock, she saw him holding out a long black sword. It lay glistening in his hands, raindrops dripping at the edge of its blade.

"Are you ready?"

Orihime looked terrified. When she did not respond, he strode forward and taking her hand, he guided the hilt into her fingers. It felt liquid smooth and cold to her touch. In all the years she had known Ichigo, she had never held his sword nor did she ever dream that one day she herself would use it. She fingered the swatstika cross guard, unsure of what to do next and wondering just what she got herself into.

But this was no time to dwell on uncertainty. Zangetsu glided to her back and placing one hand on her shoulder from behind, he enclosed her hand together with his with the grip held tightly by her.

"I will be with you." His voice floated beside her ear as he began to dissipate into inky particles.

Each one coalesced with the girl's clothes, darkening the fabric and elongating the skirt until it had replicated itself as Zangetsu's own robes. The insubstantial hem and collar flowed against her skin as though moved by an invisible wind.

Light blue reiatsu burst at her feet, sending hundreds of streams of light that encircled her body, enlivening her with a strength that she had never known before. It rushed through, coursing deeply into her soul until at long last, it vanished, leaving only a trail of light in her eyes.

It was enough. More than enough.

Zangetsu's physical form was gone but the sword remained in her hand. The weight had vanished and the foreignness of it was replaced with familiarity. Whatever doubt she had was gone.

Feeling as though she were being guided from within her own self, she broke into a run and leapt into the air, going from one place to the next further down using flash steps until she arrived at the epicenter.

Death and Ichigo were still fighting savagely, brutally, furiously, sending one building to the ground after the other. They collided, meshing into a horrific wrestle. The beast's white claws cracked and shook as it locked onto Death's hands, tearing at last through the skin and drawing copious amounts of black blood.

The monster's leaned forward, its mask glaring at Death as the pointed ends of its horn taper down to form a static orb of electrifying energy.

"A valiant effort." Death grimaced, struggling to get out of the beast's grip. His eyes glowed red with promise as a darker, more sinister energy that lay below threatened to spring out and strike.

The bang that followed was like a cannon blast but the sound nor impact came from neither. Time seemed to have slowed and yet Death found himself unable to act. He watched in shock as a black blade neatly sliced away the beast's horn and broke the side of its mask then a flash of light later, he felt a swift and sudden push in his chest. He stepped back, free from the hollow and as he looked down to see the point of the sword protruding from his chest, his eyes widened.

Stumbling, he sank to his knees but nothing prepared him for what he saw next.

Standing above him was the girl and lying just a few feet away was the beast, broken of its power. He stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"_I will never let you harm him_." The voice that came from her seemed entwined with another and the blue light he had once seen in Ichigo's eyes emanated from her own.

She turned away and with every step she took to reach the boy, blackened particles crumbled away from her like ash, slowly revealing one stitch at a time the white fabric that lay underneath until at last, she knelt down and all trace of Zangetsu's presence vanished. Her eyes darkened to their normal shade and when she felt the last iota of reiatsu disappear, she let out a breath as though breathing for the first time.

Slowly, Orihime turned Ichigo to lie on his back and lifted his body into her arms. For a long time, she sat there, watching him intently as the boned mask cracked and broke away until at last, she could see his face. With both hands she smoothed his brow, traced the jawline, and brushed away blood from his temple. Tears dripped from her cheeks.

"This was…unexpected." Blood dribbled from Death's mouth as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. Horrified, Orihime looked up to see him watching her with a kind of grim satisfaction. He grabbed the point of the blade and pushed it backward until it fell out. The sword dropped to the ground.

Instinctively, Orihime tightened her arms around Ichigo.

"Who would have thought it would be you." Death mused aloud, touching his wound.

He gazed after the couple while the rain was starting to lighten.

"I suppose you're wondering what's next?"

She said nothing.

A faint laugh escaped him. "The accord is understood." Death grinned before coughing out bits of membrane. "Tell the death god that when he wakes up. He will know what I mean."

"What…?"

"The accord is understood."

And no sooner had Death spoken, Orihime felt as though she were falling down in a great black hole. The sky and everything with it was fading behind her. She clutched to Ichigo and bent her head down, her wet hair covering both their faces like a veil. Her hands clenched over his chest as they went deeper into shadow, traveling farther and farther away from all things, space, and time...

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	15. From Eternity

It had stopped.

The rain had finally let down and no sight was more beautiful to Zangetsu than the clearing sky above. The grey in the clouds were disappearing and the sea had quieted. All seemed at peace, that is, with the exception of his twin.

"_You_…"

Zangetsu glanced to his left.

Several hundred feet across was none other than the Hollow ghost. From the tips of his hair to the hem of his robes, he was utterly white. The only thing that retained any form of color were his eyes, a strange combination of blackened whites and yellow irises. His deathly pale skin was slowly dissolving away and the tiny bits of spiritual matter streamed towards Zangetsu for reabsorption.

"You…ruined…_everything_." The fury could hardly be contained in the Hollow's voice.

"If I had let you continue," Zangetsu answered, "you would have killed Ichigo."

"Why the fuck would I let that happen? If I did that, he'd be dead and so would we!" The Hollow was enraged. "I was about to win! I could've claimed victory but you and that girl had to interfere!"

"Because of her, our world has been restored to its original state. We needed her for our survival and for Ichigo's as well."

"_No_." The Hollow bared his teeth. "You wanted _us_ to be the horse and _him_ be king!"

"Our survival depends on that balance."

"He's a shithead loser who doesn't have any instincts to fight and win! How can you let someone like him rule over _us_? Don't forget that _we _gave him his power. It was never the other way around." The Hollow threw a look of deepest loathing at Zangetsu. "This isn't over. It'll never be over."

"But until that time, you will have to acknowledge him as 'king.'"

At that, the Hollow's glare deepened into an ugly scowl. "And what about the girl?"

"What about her?" Zangetsu merely gazed at him.

"She'll always be a trigger." The Hollow threw out as if it were an insult. By now, his lower half had faded and turned into Zangetsu's own legs. He stood there, withering away as his remains continued to feed and substantiate Zangetsu's form. "You saw what happened when she died. Every time she falls into danger, Ichigo lowers his defenses and that's when I appear. It always happens like clockwork and soon he'll be mine for the taking."

"Then I guess Ichigo will have to make sure she doesn't get in harm's way ever again." Zangetsu said. "And rest assured, I will be there to help him. Not you."

The Hollow burst out a laugh. "Neither of you can protect her for that long."

"I think," an edge of steeliness tinged Zangetsu's voice, "you've forgotten how determined Ichigo can be."

"So what does that make her to us then?" The Hollow spat. "Is she a child you'll babysit for eternity? A ward to keep locked up from me?"

Zangetsu paused. He watched on as his twin's torso dwindled into tiny particles and streamed back towards him to form his own chest. Then just as invisibility crept to the Hollow's neck, he gave a grim smile.

"Using your own words, I believe this would make her our queen."

The Hollow narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's as you implied. They are too deeply connected. We have now seen that one cannot survive without the other so what else would could she be?"

The Hollow looked away in disgust. By now, his head only remained and just before the emptiness swallowed him whole, he turned to see Zangetsu one last time.

"You can't get rid of me." His words echoed with a sense of finality. "I am you and you are me. We are Ichigo and he is us. That girl is only a temporary linchpin. After she dies, and she _will _eventually…"

He closed his eyes as his face started to vanish away.

"I'll be waiting."

Then he was gone.

Zangetsu stood at the edge of the watery abyss and looked out across his vast and uninhabited world. Then as the sun started to rise again, casting streaks of bright light and shadows along the skyscrapers, he faced the horizon to deliver a message to his dormant other self.

"And when that time comes," his glasses flashed white as day broke, "he'll be here and ready for you."

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They laid close together, their heads perpendicular to each other as they drifted along the groundless path and were held fast in a dreamless sleep.

A month or even a year would have passed without much thought for time was irrelevant. Then, like a water droplet falling into a still pond, their consciousness slowly formed and as they gathered back each of the five senses, their awareness sprang into life.

Ichigo was the first to wake. It was a long time before he could move and when he did, he sat up and let his eyes travel aimlessly at the bright mist all around him until they came to rest on Orihime. For a horrifying moment, he thought he was seeing her lifeless body but when he saw her chest, her chain of fate was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing there, only breath and life.

In disbelief, his hand reached out to touch her face. His fingers shook as they gently lifted strands of her hair to reveal her peaceful countenance. For the first time in months, he felt his lips curve into a smile. But the expression felt stiff and foreign to his face that was unused to such action for a while. He wasn't sure what had happened.

The last thing he remembered was crawling on his stomach and bleeding out then he was here. He didn't even know whether he had lost or won. If he had been killed or if he was still alive. He _felt _alive. He was severely disoriented, dizzy, and in some degree of pain but his existence was as tangible to him as the touch of his own skin.

To assure himself that Orihime herself was real, he brushed his thumb against her cheek and to his amazement, he felt her lashes flutter along his hand as she awoke and pulled herself in a sitting position.

"Ichigo..."

In that single utterance, something seemed to explode inside of Ichigo, propelling him to a height of happiness that he didn't think was possible to reach. She remembered. She knew who he was. For a shivering second of silence, they stared at one another then before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. Orihime stared at the empty shimmering background, not knowing what to do or say next.

"Are we…" She could hear his voice tremble ever so slightly in hesitation, in fear. "Are we dead? Did I lose?"

"No." Orihime whispered. "No, you didn't lose. I…" How could she explain what happened? Instead, she repeated Death's last words. "…he told me to tell you that 'the accord is understood.' He said you'd know what that meant."

Ichigo's eyes widened.

"But I don't understand."

"…"

"Please tell me." As though to reassure him that she would not be angry at whatever information he revealed, she slid her arms out and crossed them over his back.

"I made a deal." He said at length.

"What kind?"

"He wanted a fight. He wanted me to beat him and I told him if I did, he would let you go."

"And what would have happened if you didn't win?"

Ichigo paused.

"It's okay." She tightened her hold.

"…I told him I'd take your place in exchange."

When Orihime didn't answer, his face bent in shame. "I'm sorry." His breath caught in a hitch. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long for me to get to you."

"You don't have to say anything." Orihime murmured, putting up a valiant effort to not cry. A very soft but distinct tone of gratitude was laced with her words. "You don't need to be sorry."

Ichigo lowered his head further down. "I fought without thinking…without saving you first when I should have. Every time I got cut up or beat, you were always there to help me but I never realized how scared or worried I made you..." He fell silent. "…I was selfish."

Orihime pulled away from his embrace, leaving just one hand lingering at the side of his face. "Yes, you did scare me and I was worried about you all the time." She paused. "But I left those concerns behind me a long time ago. Because I promised myself that no matter what happens to you, I'll be there for you."

Her lips curved into a trembling smile.

"And you're so strong already. I know you can pull through anything."

The last note of optimism in her voice triggered such nostalgia and endearment that Ichigo gathered her back into his arms and for as long as he was content she remained there, closely hugged to his body.

After a while they reluctantly broke apart but hand in hand, they stood up and started to explore their new surroundings together. When Ichigo realized that they were not in a mind but in the Bridgeway of Dreams, hope swelled inside him. He knew where they were and how they could get out.

They talked for a long time, regaling their experiences and filling in the gaps of each other's stories whenever the other could not remember. When Orihime got to the part of meeting Zangetsu and breaking the hollow mask, Ichigo cricked his neck by turning to her so suddenly.

"_You did that?" _He was beyond stunned. "You saw Zangetsu?"

"I didn't know who he was but I realized it eventually. He said that only I could help you and if I didn't, you would die. So I did what he asked."

"But what did he do? What else did he say?"

Orihime paused in their walk. "He gave me my hairpins back."

"Your _what_?"

"You had them, inside you. He gave them to me."

"But that's not possible. They were buried with you in Soul Society. I never…I couldn't keep them after you went."

"They were there. Zangetsu said that they were," she inclined her head, "a fragment of me that you had held onto. Whatever it was, I am glad they were there because if they weren't, I would never have been able to remember or have enough strength to do what I did."

"You never needed strength. You always were braver than me to begin with."

Orihime gave him a grateful smile.

With every subsequent step they took, together Ichigo felt as though an enormous weight was gradually beginning to be pulled off his shoulders. But most of all, he was relieved. That was mostly it, relief. The fact that he and Orihime had just defeated Death and journeyed through perdition was as vague as a dream. He was dazed, exhausted, but happy. If his face didn't hurt so much, he would have smiled because honestly, he was _that _happy.

When they at last reached what seemed to be the entrance of the Bridgeway, to their surprise, they were greeted by a familiar face.

"You've returned." The joy reflected in the Second Princess's countenance was as radiant as a summer sun. But when she reached out to embrace him, Ichigo stepped back, pushing Orihime behind him.

"Yeah, I did." Ichigo regarded her mistrustfully.

The Second Princess lowered her arms. To Ichigo's satisfaction, he could see that she was ashamed and the light that enveloped her faded.

"Well?" He looked to her for an explanation.

"What are you doing?" Orihime asked him, her eyes going back and forth from Ichigo to the strange woman. She was dumbfounded by the princess's appearance but there she was. Her splendor and beauty seemed too unreal but there she was, standing and breathing like any other living being.

"I am the one who sent Ichigo to where you were." The Second Princess said at last, addressing first to Orihime. "He is understandably upset as I had brought him into Hell without explaining to him the real reason as to why."

"But now I know." Ichigo interjected. "You weren't really helping me at all. You just wanted your husband back and someone who could fight for you to make that happen."

The Second Princess lowered her head, strands of diamonds and pearls quivering in her hair as she did so. "Yes."

"So exactly how many people like me died because of what you did? How many did you promise that they would get what they want without telling them what they were really being sent to Hell for?"

Ichigo couldn't help it. He was angry but worst of all, he felt used. This princess and Death had created the situation into a sick game in which she supplied the players and he cut down every one she sent in the hope that they would provide him _entertainment_ if only for a little while.

At the thought, Ichigo felt an overwhelming desire to strike her but forced himself to remain absolutely still. He was not that kind of man and he knew he would not only shame himself but Orihime as well.

The Second Princess closed her eyes for a moment and nodded.

"Yes, I was the one who led many to their deaths. Rather, I should say that they requested that I take them to the one place where they could be reunited with those whom they lost. I did this because I understood their pain and while fulfilling their wishes, I was fulfilling my own."

"But they never got their wish."

"No." The Princess quietly acknowledged.

"So it was all for nothing."

"Nothing?" The Princess looked to Orihime. "And yet you both are here."

"I didn't go through all that for you." Ichigo stated. "I did it for her."

"Yes, you have risked much for this girl." The Princess turned her head. "But your journey isn't over just yet. There is but one last barrier that stands in place. I am not trying to stop you." She added placatingly when she saw Ichigo's face darken. "I am here to offer a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"Death allowed you return to Heaven. Not the living world. I cannot change the natural order of things. This girl cannot go back to the place where she lived as a human. But she can still have an afterlife. She can descend to Soul Society with you if you are willing to make one last sacrifice for her sake."

"Sacrifice?"

"Your life." The Princess said softly. "You must forfeit your mortal existence in order to give her a celestial one so that she can live in Sereitei and transcend onwards."

"_No_." But the voice that spoke was not Ichigo but Orihime herself. Her eyes locked onto his. "No, you can't do this. You can't. I won't let you."

"Orihime."

"You have to go back. That's where you belong."

"I'm _not _leaving you." And from his tone, it was clear that he was unwilling to negotiate this.

"I died." The expression on Orihime's face grew sad. "I can't go to where you are and I could never forgive myself knowing every day that you could have had a full life if it weren't for me."

"No." Ichigo said firmly. "I made a promise to Rukia that we would come back _together _and that's exactly what I intend on doing." He turned to Orihime and pressed his forehead against hers. "I know you're scared for me. I am too. But the thing is, I made up my mind a long time ago that I will do everything—anything—to save you. Including this."

He interlocked his hands with hers.

"You've always put others before yourself. All I'm asking is that just this once, you be a little selfish, okay?" He tried to smile. "It won't be so bad. We're going to be in Soul Society but we'll be there together."

Orihime could hardly say a word. But when she saw how serious and sincere he was about taking this risk, she felt a mixture of terror, sadness, and strangely, elation. How could she express to him what this meant? When she summoned the courage to nod, Ichigo turned to the Princess.

"I'm ready."

At his prompting, the Second Princess looked for a long moment into his face. A strange warmth bloomed into chest as he held her gaze and the bright mist thickened around him, obscuring her from sight. Light surrounded him in a circle, flowing through him then rising, twisting and turning together to form multiple strands that spread out above him. Like water, they undulated in waves and filled him an indescribable feeling of completeness. He felt himself slowly falling backward but when he reached for Orihime, to his utmost terror, she was gone.

"Wait!"

His sight was blurring.

"Wait!"

And although he knew he was descending back to Sereitei, the princess's voice rang out to him loud and clear in the emptiness.

"_Thank you Ichigo…_"

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"Ikeda! IKEDA!"

"What—what is it—?"

"Oh my…"

"Isn't that—?"

"Someone get a medic!"

"Call Ukitake-taichou!"

"No! Get the First Division here now!"

Footsteps thundered around as a swarm of shinigami ran in different directions, shouting out orders above one another, and rushed to notify superiors.

Ichigo lay flat on the ground, oblivious to the chaos his appearance had caused. His mind seemed almost like a recordless blank. Every part of his body ached.

"Is this…is this really him?" A panicked voice asked above him.

"How can you not know this guy? He beat up half of our squad when he was here, you moron!"

"Out of the way, out of the way please! Medic here!"

In an instant, a pair of warm hands opened up the front of his robes, felt his forehead, tugged up an eyelid, and checked his pulse.

"Is he dead?"

"How can he be alive? _No one _has ever come back from the Royal Realm."

"Has anyone seen Ukitake-taichou?"

"Why is no one listening to me? That's Kurosaki Ichigo! The man who stole the Key! He is under arrest! Someone send a message to First Division—AH!"

The crowd gasped as the deathgod was soundly punched into silence and fell to the ground, unconscious.

"_Shut up_." Someone snarled.

"_A_…_Abarai-fukutaichou_?" Another shinigami pointed out, scandalized by the lieutenant's behavior.

"Get out of my way!" Renji shoved one death god after the other away to clear a path and it wasn't long before a familiar face appeared in Ichigo's view.

"Ichigo." Rukia knelt beside him. Worried, she placed a comforting hand on his arm and waited for his eyes to turn towards her.

"…Rukia…" Ichigo managed to croak out.

"Don't talk. You're in pretty bad shape." Rukia warned. "Listen to me, Ishida and Sado aren't in Soul Society anymore, they've been sent back but they're okay. Unohana-taichou is on her way right now to treat you. You'll be moved to the hospital barracks but you'll be all right and so will Inoue. Renji and I will guard you both."

_Orihime? _

Startled, Ichigo tried to sit up but was forced back down by the medics to lie still. In his shock, his head slowly turned to the side and sure enough, there was Orihime, lying just a few feet away from him and surrounded by healers.

When at last he looked away, his gaze went directly back to Rukia who watched him in happy silence.

"You did it." She squeezed his hand. "You brought her back."

And quite suddenly, Ichigo's eyes started to burn. His sight became oddly distorted and as he blinked, he was surprised to find his face wet. But Rukia reached down and using the back of her hand, she gently patted his cheeks and brushed the water away. When she withdrew, her blue eyes looked down at him with a most gentle expression.

"Don't cry..."

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By the time Sado found Tatsuki, it was already dusk.

He saw her sitting on the bleachers, gazing at the empty volleyball court where she and her class had once played so many games. Her eyes remained resolutely fixed to the white rectangle in the dirt and did not lift up to acknowledge Sado as he walked up to where she was and sat down next to her.

When he finally spoke, it was not to apologize or make excuses.

"I know they're not coming back either."

Tatsuki flinched but did not respond.

"I can't explain it but I know that they're all right. I know Ichigo accomplished what he set out to do."

"You're being a little too optimistic." Tatsuki retorted though without bitterness.

"And you're not giving Ichigo and Orihime enough credit. It'd take more than hell itself to break them down."

Tatsuki leaned back in her seat and tilted her head in an effort to not cry. She had shot down her dignity by weeping in front of her entire class. She was not about to humiliate herself again in Sado's presence.

"I know it's hard keeping secrets but this is the way things have to be for people like us. People who can see and feel things that others can't." Sado's voice drifted by her ear. "I know how much you miss Orihime. I do too. But it's only for a little while, Tatsuki.

"You've never been there but I know the place where we all go when we die. Knowing that, it helps me, because I know exactly where Orihime is going to be when _I _get there and you will too when the time comes.

"She might feel a million miles away but the truth is, she's a lot closer than we think she is. Ichigo too. So if you think you're never going to see them again, that's not true and whenever you despair, I'll always be here to remind you of that."

And having said what he came to say, Sado rose from his seat and walked down to leave Tatsuki alone in her thoughts.

She remained where she was for a long time and when she was sure she was completely by herself, she closed her eyes and clenching a fist to her heart, she let the tears slide quietly down her face as she swathed herself in Sado's comforting words and prayed that in the end, he was right.


	16. Epilogue

_Sixty Years Later_

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"Checkmate."

Taken aback, Ishida blinked for a few good seconds but there it was. His king was caught in gridlock. There was no way to move him anywhere on the board. Pursing his lips in displeasure, he leaned back in his chair with a most sullen expression.

"That was a freebie. I did that on purpose." Ishida miffed.

Across the table, Sado merely smiled. "Of course."

"Clear the board. I want a do-over."

Two pairs of wrinkled hands, one dark and one light, reached over and reorganized the pieces back to their original places. Though tall in youth, age and a hip replacement caused Sado to stoop. Ishida's eyesight had worsened over the years and as a result, his glasses were twice the size of what they had been when he was a highschool student. Their hairs were now grey and their skin was mottled with age spots but a shadow of their former selves remained enough for recognition.

They sat in contented silence at the park tables, surrounded by quiet cultivated beauty. A fountain gurgled in the background and in the distance, they could hear the faint piercing rings of children's laughter.

"How's your grandson?" Sado casually asked as he arranged the pawns in a neat row.

"Which one?"

"The one that likes to talk a lot."

"You mean Yuta." Ishida looked annoyed. "I have no idea why he won't shut up. I keep telling my daughter-in-law to keep him in line but she says it'll limit his 'ability to express himself.'"

"I don't mind. I actually think he's funny."

"Hmph." Ishida crossed his arms. "Try having him at your house for a week and we'll see how _funny_ you'd think it is if you hear him chatting nonstop."

Sado chuckled. "He sounds like Nel. Remember her?"

"How could I forget?" Ishida rolled his eyes. "I'm sure if she met Yuta they'd be best friends but my ears won't be able to take those two at once."

"Are you going to train him when he gets older?" Sado lowered his voice as a pair of joggers ran past them. "Has he shown any signs?"

"Of course." Ishida sat a little straighter in his chair. "Just like my son, all of his children have shown potentiality. I'm thinking of telling Yuta and his siblings before they enter highschool. What about yours? Anything yet?"

"No." Sado ruefully grinned. "My son didn't have any powers when he was a kid and I don't think my granddaughters will either. But I'm happy regardless. As long as they're healthy and content, that's enough for me."

They played and talked for another hour. Ishida regaled to a less-than-enthused Sado about his daughter's upcoming wedding and how he had created the perfect honeymoon wardrobe ensemble for her. After a while, they both grew tired of their game and when they realized the sun had set, they got up.

Together, they walked to a local flower shop to buy half a dozen white roses then headed to the market for a case of sake. They crossed the street and continued to amble up a hill until they reached the outskirts of a cemetery.

They passed rows of alabaster plots with a kind of casualness, suggesting they had been here many times before and knew exactly where to go. It wasn't long before they found who they were looking for.

"Long time no see." Ishida greeted at the headstone. After a quick survey, he noticed that the marble had been recently cleaned and the name characters were repainted in. A pot of china mums was placed in the center and there were traces of burned incense on the ground nearby.

"It looks like Yuzu and Karin beat us to it." Ishida remarked.

"Either them or it was Tatsuki." Sado squatted down and pointed at the card near the flowers to where her name was expressly written. He laid the roses at the base. "Well these are for Orihime anyway."

"And we did bring something to celebrate with you. We didn't forget." Ishida said, still addressing the headstone. He withdrew the sake from its case, handed a bottle to Sado, and got another for himself. In ceremonious fashion, they twisted off the caps, saluted the headstone, and drank deeply.

When they finished, Sado opened another bottle and drawing out a plastic cup, he poured some out and set it to rest at the foot of the headstone.

"It's been a pretty good year for both of us." He talked to the silence. "Our grandchildren are healthy."

"And loud as ever." Ishida added.

"We'll be joining our families later tonight for the festival. I don't know about Soul Society but I hope you both get to celebrate it." Sado gazed at the characters embedded in the stone. "Please give our best wishes to Orihime. Tell her we miss her."

"By the way," Ishida began, "I'd appreciate it if you both watched over my daughter's wedding. Michiko's getting married in October. If you can make sure no mistakes happen on that day, it would be most appreciated."

They both paused.

"We know we can't see or hear you." Sado said at last. "But sometimes, we can sense that you are there for us. We are getting old. We can still detect hollows and ghosts but we don't have the strength to fight them like we used to."

"And yet, we feel as though we're being guarded and that you're protecting our descendants from harm. For that… we're grateful. More than you can imagine." There was a veneer of emotion in Ishida's words and together, he and Sado bowed low.

They straightened and quietly gathered their things. Before they left, Ishida took one last look at the headstone.

"Today, you would have been seventy-seven. I always wondered if you'd age like us but then again, you probably grow slower than we do in Soul Society." He smiled at the thought. Yes, it was fitting given that their lives had been cut short in the living world. But it comforted him to entertain the possibility that they were both out there, lingering in place where time was irrelevant and being allowed to live out their afterlife in a way that they couldn't when they had been alive.

Then as he and Sado turned to go, he murmured the greeting that he made every year without fail since they were sixteen.

"Happy Birthday Kurosaki."

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White and black robes billowed out in front of the Eighth Division's captain as he briskly made his way through the crowds. His sandaled feet gritted along the stone path while the hard soles slapped against his heels in time. Flanking his sides was a pair of raven-haired girls who clutched at his fingers, keeping their eyes peeled for colorful streamers and brightly lit lanterns. Strapped to his chest was a six-month old baby girl in her carrier, absent-mindedly sucking on her right fist.

Venders had crammed their stands into every available free space in the street and hollered above the noise to advertise their wares. Rows of delicate pastries specially made for the festival lined every bakery's window and not a single roof lacked pretty decorations. Floating crepe balls hung from every mast, trailing papery ribbons and strings of origami. Instead of the standard black, most of the death gods had come out to join the celebrations in stylish robes and carefree attitudes as though they were ordinary civilians.

Everywhere they went, people smiled and waved, charmed by the sight of the captain with the girls. Many onlookers even stopped him to wish happy greetings and lavishly complimented him on producing such fine-looking daughters.

"Aren't they just adorable?"

"Oh look, they have matching robes!"

"How well behaved they are!"

But to their bafflement, he scowled and without even so much as a thank you or a smile, he ushered the girls away.

"What an asshole." A passerby seethed as he watched the captain walk off in a huff.

"Don't think anything of it. He's always like that." Someone laughed.

"Yes but not much of an excuse to act like a jerk, now is it?" Another drily input.

Once the captain and the girls exited the main street and slipped into a less crowded avenue, the second oldest turned to her guardian. "Whey aw we goin'?"

"Home." He answered, kneeling down. Fishing out a napkin from his pocket, he wiped off sticky grease from the little girl's mouth.

"We have to go now?" The oldest pouted in disappointment. When a strong waft of barbeque smoke blew in her direction, she crinkled her nose and held up a brocaded sleeve to her face.

"It's only for a little while. Your uncle's got the best spot to view the fireworks. You like those, right?" The captain smiled at the girls. They nodded in excitement. Even the baby, who had been quite oblivious to the festivities all night, cooed.

"Good." The captain stood up, crumpling the napkin into his fist. Taking their hands into his once more, he started to turn around the corner when a pair of seated officers approached him.

"Good evening." A waifish brunette and her portly, male companion beamed.

"Risa, Mori." The captain nodded to his subordinates. "Enjoying the festival?"

"Absolutely! Fine night for Tanabata, isn't it, captain?" Mori pompously jut out his fat lip and gave a deep whiff of the summer air.

"Yes, it's wonderful, isn't it, sir? It looks like all of Soul Society turned out for tonight!" Risa smiled until her eye fell on the girls. She blinked in surprise. "And so did your children, I see."

"Ca—ca—captain!" stammered Mori. "I didn't know you had this many!"

The captain rolled his eyes. Loosening out his hand, he pointed to the tallest of the girls. "This is Kikyo, Abarai-taichou's oldest. Asagao is her," his finger went to the other, "and the midget here is Sakura." He nodded down to the baby who gurgled back at him.

"Abarai?" Mori blinked in recognition. "Ah, the Fifth Division's captain? The one who's married to Kuchiki Rukia?"

"Yeah," the captain replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh of course!" Risa exclaimed, seeing the resemblance immediately. Smiling, she crouched down to Kikyo's and Asagao's level. "What lovely blue eyes you both have! Just like Kuchiki-dono!"

"But this cutie here takes after her papa!" Mori strode forward to affectionately pat Sakura's head of red hair. "Wouldn't you say so, Kurosaki-taichou?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you." Ichigo replied. "They all look the same to me."

"Are you having fun so far?" Risa kindly asked the girls. Asagao darted behind Ichigo's leg but Kikyo responded for her and her sister.

"Yes," she piped up, "it's our favorite holiday. Well, our _second _favorite holiday. New Year's is the best because Ichi gives us lots of money."

"Really?" Risa looked up to see Ichigo's sullen expression.

"Mama makes him." Kikyo happily replied.

"Well I guess Kurosaki-taichou is very kind and generous to women." Risa threw a pretty smile at her superior though her eyes seemed enflamed with a wrath meant for Ichigo alone. "If only he could extend the same courtesy to his staff and _not give them so much paperwork on the night of one of Soul Society's most popular festivals_!"

Ichigo winced. "Sorry Risa."

"It's fine." She said primly as she straightened up. "What are seated officers like me for anyway? Just exactly that. So where, may I ask, will you be going tonight?"

"Kuchiki Manor." Ichigo said as he consolingly tapped Sakura's head when she started to squirm. "Byakuya's got some fancy party going on there right now. Renji and Rukia are in charge of patrol tonight so they asked me to take the girls out around Seireitei until they get back."

"Ah, of course." Risa grinned. "By the way captain, I had no idea you were such a fan of this color." She teased as she eyed the baby-carrier's pink and white rabbit print. "Is Chappy your new thing now?"

"It's not mine!" Ichigo snapped. "Rukia's the one with the obsession with the stupid bunny, not me."

"Of course not." Risa laughed, gleeful at the chance of spreading the rumor that the high-and-mighty Kurosaki-taichou adored rabbits. "Well then, Mori and I won't keep you long. Have fun, girls!" She waved at Kikyo and Asagao.

"Oi, wait, Risa!" Mori dashed after her when she turned around to leave. "Risa!"

"Come on." Ichigo beckoned the girls to continue on their original route.

It did not take them very long to find their way to Kuchiki manor. When they got there, a splendid sight awaited them. The main house gleamed from the inside and out. Giant streamers hanging from the rafters boasted lovely pastel prints and lines of origami shaped like flowers, cranes, and stars. Social butterflies flitted from the galleries, laughing, chatting, and calling for more drinks. The introverts in contrast strolled through the garden in silent leisure and paused every once in a while to give it an admiring gaze.

Delicate maple trees and mimosas surrounded by camellias, violets, irises, peonies, bellflowers, and sprays of lavender bellflowers grew alongside a large lake. Under a curved bridge, silver carps languidly circled the surface of the water, slapping their fins occasionally against the water-lily vines. Wisteria and flowering jasmine twined about the columns of the galleries while strings of tiny lanterns hung above the eaves, providing a series of twinkling golden lights that hovered above the purple and white blooms.

"Pweety," was Asagao's comment.

"Yeah, it is." Ichigo murmured in agreement. For all of Byakuya's artistic shortcomings, he had risen magnificently to the occasion. Every corner of the manor radiated elegance and beauty.

"Look, Ichi!" Kikyo excitedly pointed to a glowworm peeking out from one of the jasmine blossoms. She and Asagao then spent a minute or two poking at it with their fingers until they heard a familiar voice boom: "Well look who's finally here!"

"Papa!" The girls squealed. The glowworm forgotten, they both turned right around and ran straight into Renji's awaiting arms. Laughing, he swept Kikyo and Asagao off their feet and caught them in a bear-hug.

"You two have fun?" Rukia smiled when she appeared in view. Her robes swished alongside her as she helped Ichigo unclasp the baby carrier from his chest. "Thanks for taking care of them on such short notice."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Renji seconded. "We'd have asked Kuchiki-taichou but he seemed pretty busy with planning the party so we just didn't bother." He waved to the sparkling manor behind him.

"You actually wanted Byakuya to _babysit_?" Ichigo was nonplussed.

"Why wouldn't we? He adores the girls." Rukia said as she transferred Sakura back into her arms.

"He really does." Renji grinned to reassure Ichigo that this wasn't a joke. "You know he's been giving Kikyo and Asagao calligraphy lessons lately?"

Ichigo's mouth sagged open in unflattering disbelief. Everyone knew Byakuya was the _last_ person on earth who had the patience let alone desire to educate two small children. How cruel were Renji and Rukia to make their daughters put up with such a sourpuss?

"Do the girls even _like _calligraphy?" was all Ichigo managed to ask.

"They do. Nii-sama is a wonderful teacher." Rukia lauded which only caused Ichigo and Renji to roll their eyes. What a typical response from Kuchiki Byakuya's number one fan.

"What's with the outfit?" Ichigo stepped back and eyed her dress which was considerably more colorful and elaborate than her typical black garb.

"It's for the festival." Rukia replied, her tone suddenly stiff.

"I wasn't the one who made her wear it." Renji shrugged when Ichigo looked at him for further explanation.

"Nii-sama," a faint blush tinted Rukia's cheeks, "was kind enough to pick this out for me."

"Yeah but did he have to go all out with it though?" Ichigo looked down at his own plain black-and-white uniform, feeling quite underdressed.

"Relax, you're not the only one." Renji jabbed a thumb behind him to the manor's interiors. "Mayuri-taichou came with the usual stuff on too. It's no big deal, honestly."

"Speak for yourself." Ichigo pointedly looked Renji up and down at his own splendid damask robes that were embroidered with silver tigers on the backside. "Did Byakuya made you wear that too?"

"Yes." A scowl appeared on Renji's face.

"Don't start again." Rukia warned, seeing the look.

"It's just that I don't like his style." Renji began to complain, much to Rukia's chagrin and apparent annoyance. "Just look at this, man. Tigers, I ask you. This is stuff for old people, way too traditional for me." He gestured to his back in distaste.

Rukia frowned.

"And," Renji lowered his voice as he pulled Ichigo aside, "don't you think Rukia looks kind of…"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ichigo lied, feeling Rukia's eyes burn into his back.

"The outfit makes her look _old._ You don't understand how much time and effort Kuchiki-taichou spent picking out our clothes. I mean, he went to the last detail plus the flower arrangements. Stuff like just adds more to my theory.

"What theory?"

"The one about Kuchiki-taichou being gay."

"Huh?"

"Renji, not again!" Rukia snapped.

"No, listen, you have to hear this. He sits in his room all the time and I'm telling you, the man doesn't do anything but stare at trees and paint pretty pictures all day. He only likes talking to guys and I've never seen him socialize with another woman besides Rukia."

"You are being so obnoxious and rude!" Rukia narrowed her eyes. "Don't encourage him Ichigo."

"Okay, okay." Ichigo cut in conciliatorily. "I get it. He's stupid, you're not, he's wrong, you're right."

"You always take her side!" Renji accused.

"I'd think the guy who's been married to Rukia for this long should've figured out by now that there's no winning when it comes to arguing with her," Ichigo quipped. "Now come on, let's go inside. I'm hungry."

The party looked to be a huge success. Over two hundred guests flitted about the expansive Kuchiki property in high spirits. All of the Goteijusantai and their vice captains had been invited along with most of the aristocracy. Even Kukaku and Ganju had shown up although the latter got so drunk before the banquet started that he had to be carted back home to sleep off the alcohol.

Dinner was an even grander affair in which Byakuya seemed to have ignored the principle of cost. Each course was one fabulous display after the other of delicacies and impressive culinary. The prettiest of serving girls had been selected to pour drinks, chat, and whisk dirty dishes out of sight for the guests.

When Ichigo, Rukia, and Renji arrived, they separated to find their designated seats among the banquet tables. The Abarai family was seated to Byakuya's right while Ichigo was placed next to captain Hisagi at a table sequestered to the far left. For the next hour, he and Hisagi engaged in a lively debate on what was the most effective method in exterminating hollows over rice wine, fish, and a heaping plate of spicy Pollock roe.

But every so often, when there was a lull in the conversation, he craned his head above the crowd.

"You need something?" Hisagi raised an empty cup to a pagegirl.

"No, just expecting someone that's all." Ichigo muttered as he retreated to his place. He glanced to the head of the table where Ukitake and Commander-General Unohana were seated.

After Yamamoto's sudden promotion to the Royal Guard, Central 46 capitalized on the empty spot the wizened general had left by appointing Unohana to the position. Fairer and more broad-minded than her predecessor, Unohana's tenure proved to be tranquil and rarely encountered major clashes of disagreement. Whether this was due to the fact that the Goteijusantai was complete and had particularly formidable captains this time around or it was simply luck, none could say.

"I know what you're thinking." Hisagi remarked while nodding thanks when his cup was refilled.

"What?"

"That we're lucky bastards to get Unohana instead of sticking with Yamamoto-sotaichou."

"I know. We have a nicer Commander-General now." Ichigo agreed, thinking back to the time when Unohana had quietly dismissed whatever outstanding charges had been against him, simply on the grounds that Central 46 had been coerced to change its initial proclamations after receiving a divine interceder who had spoken on his behalf. Though she had never revealed the identity, he always had a shrewd guess as to who it was.

"Yeah, one with an actual soul." Hisagi sipped his sake. "I'm happy for her though. She seemed to be in a good place ever since she married Ukitake-taichou. How many kids do they have now? I stopped counting after the fourth one."

"I see six." Ichigo said after counting all the heads he could see.

"Well unless Matsumoto is lying to me, she said Unohana-sotaichou's expecting number seven." Hisagi nodded to the Commander-General. "I wonder how Ukitake gets any sleep."

Ichigo's eyes flitted over to Unohana's table where her entire family was seated. It was by far the loudest and most chaotic group out of everyone else at the dinner party. There were Atsuhira and Akiko, the eldest son and daughter, sitting beside each parent and trying to oversee their younger siblings but without much success. The twins Teishi and Shoshi were pulling each other's hair, causing both of them to scream and burst into tears. Kazan, the second youngest, knocked over a plate of soy sauce, ruining his brocade jacket. All the while the baby of the Ukitake clan, Kinsue, was sitting in his father's lap and basking in the attention.

Noticing that Ichigo was watching him, Ukitake gave a wan smile that most exhausted parents wore on such occasions like these.

Grinning, Ichigo bit into a rice cake then scanned the banquet table for Renji and Rukia. He found them sitting three seats away from Byakuya and still finishing up their dinner. Sakura was no longer with Rukia, presumably having been put down for sleep. Their two girls however were still with them.

Then just as Ichigo turned away from the tranquil scene to ask Hisagi a question, Asagao got up from her place when the desserts started being served. She tottered past her parents and several guests until she finally reached Byakuya then tugging at his sleeve to catch his attention, she slid into his lap.

"Wow." Hisagi was stunned by the girl's audacity.

Ichigo could only stare, half expecting and half fearing Byakuya to catapult his niece out. But to his amazement, Byakuya acknowledged Asagao's presence and started to feed her shaved ice from his own bowl as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Well there's a nice change," was Hisagi's good-natured comment as Ichigo gawked on.

When dinner concluded, everyone was led outside and encouraged to find a spot to view the fireworks display. Before the show commenced, Ukitake gathered all the children in the party for a brief story-telling session. The reception to this announcement was to say the least, enthusiastic.

"Story-time!" Yachiru squealed. Immediately, she started tugging at Kenpachi's sleeves. "Ne, ne, Ken-chan, sit with me! Sit with me in the circle!"

"Come on taichou, don't be shy!" Matsumoto beamed as she dragged a very irritated Hitsugaya to sit with the other children. "This a perfect opportunity for you to socialize with people of your own height"

"MATSUMOTO!"

The size of the crowd that had formed around Ukitake seemed to be a testament to his reputation as a master storyteller, a reputation that preceded him. His latest book had become such a success that even the adults themselves had grown endeared to the featured characters. They were all the more significant for it was rumored that they were based on real people and the fairytale was reality superimposed in the realm of fantasy.

"_The Adventures of the Valiant Strawberry._" Ukitake recited aloud, holding up the book so the children sitting around him could see the pictures. "Written by me and illustrated by my vice-captain, Kuchiki Rukia."

All the parents appreciatively glanced in Rukia's direction with the exception of Renji and Ichigo, who were determined to avoid looking at each other.

"Once upon a time," Ukitake narrated, "there lived a curious little Strawberry in a humble weed patch."

Ichigo scowled at the implication, not appreciating that he had been made out to come from lowly origins.

"One stormy night, a snow-white Rabbit hopped by, seeking for evil goblins that liked to lurk around in the dark …"

Delighted, Rukia beamed.

"…at first, the Archer and the Strawberry did not get along at all! They constantly squabbled with each other and hardly ever agreed on anything…" Ukitake continued, turning page after page while the children listened in enthralled silence. "The Lion on the other hand was the most sensible one out of the group. He never said much but he was exceptionally kind and generous to all who knew him."

The story continued, describing a perilous journey through an unknown land and their crossing…

"…over this vale, stood a mighty castle and within one of its many rooms, lived a fair Princess."

"Why were we made into fruit?" Renji muttered when Ukitake came to the part of the Red Pineapple engaging the Strawberry into battle.

"I have no idea." Ichigo replied tersely, glaring at Rukia who seemed oblivious to his growing irritation.

"How come Sado and Ishida got to be the Lion and the Archer?" Renji was seriously displeased. "That's way cooler than being a pineapple and a strawberry. What're my girls going to think of me now?"

"That you're sweet, delicious, and prickly."

"Shut up."

The children were one of the best audiences Ukitake could have hoped for. They laughed at all the fun parts, gasped during scary moments, and cheered when the chapter ended on a victorious note in which the Valiant Strawberry and all of his friends conquered the black-hearted Goblin King.

"The End." Ukitake happily concluded as he closed the book to enthusiastic applause.

"They're all okay?" A little boy squeaked.

"They are all okay." Ukitake smiled down at him.

"The Princess too, right?" Kazan asked aloud.

At the question, all the captains in the crowd quietly turned their gazes to Ichigo.

"Yes." Ukitake's voice softened. "The Princess was rescued by the Strawberry from the Goblin King. They were married and lived happily ever after."

"She _married_ him?" Kikyo's brows were raised in childlike skepticism.

"Why of course!" Ukitake replied.

"But why?"

"Er," Ukitake blinked, "because they're in love with each other. That's why."

"Huh." Kikyo scornfully turned her face away in a perfect imitation of Byakuya. "If I were the Princess, I wouldn't want a stupid berry. I'd pick the Archer."

Everyone burst laughing. At the far left, Rukia looked perplexed while Renji had fallen over to his side from shock and hilarity. Ichigo's face turned bright red as every high-ranking captain in the vicinity started cracking up at his expense, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke fun at their colleague. Even Byakuya, famous for his unbreakable stoicism, bore a hint of a smile and looked at Kikyo with what could only be described as fatherly pride.

"And why is that, my dear?" Ukitake questioned above the din, hardly able to contain his own amusement.

"Because he's smart and pretty. The Strawberry is stupid and ugly." Kikyo replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

By this point, Renji was doubled up, hanging onto Ichigo for support while the vice captains all lost their breath from giggling so hard.

"Well I don't think the Strawberry is necessarily 'ugly'…" Ukitake said in an attempt to soften Kikyo's words.

"But he iiiiiiis~!" Yachiru sang with a fantastically wide smile.

"Please, Ukitake-taichou." Yumichika miffed. "The Strawberry is too fat and red. It should never have been coupled with a beauty like the Princess."

Furious, Ichigo gnashed his teeth.

"Normally," Mayuri snaked his way in front of the gathering, "I would not agree with a seven year old but the child makes a valid point. The Strawberry is a clearly unfavorable match to the Princess. It's hardly human and not even reproductively compatible—"

"Mayuri-taichou." Byakuya coldly interrupted. "This is not a topic suitable for children. Please refrain from speaking."

At that, Ukitake took this a signal to conclude his reading. Standing up, he clapped his hands together and asked the children to join their parents as the fireworks display was about to start.

While everyone else was busy retreating to their spots, Ichigo stiffly turned to Renji and to make one hell of a statement, he swiftly sent a suckerpunch in Renji's face.

"GUH!" Renji fell backwards, dazed from the hit.

Holding his head high, Ichigo he took care to step on Renji's hand and arm as he exited the pavilion.

Outside, everyone was clustering on the grass. Others preferred to stand over the balconies and a few dared to even climb the manor's rooftops using flash steps. Byakuya and Rukia had already taken Kikyo and Asagao down to the fishing pavilion while Ukitake and Unohana led their brood to sit atop a hill.

Feeling slightly anxious, Ichigo kept looking around the gardens and craned his neck toward the manor gates. Even now, a few people were still trickling in and he could hear half of the guests still buzzing inside the main house.

And then, someone tapped his shoulder.

"Are we too late?"

Ichigo turned around.

There stood Orihime looking pretty as ever in petal-pink robes and holding a rotund bundle wrapped in an orange blanket patterned with stars. Her hair had been arranged becomingly with flowers and dangling hairpins but the happy expression on her face far outshone her raiment. Looking slightly breathless as though she had walked a long way, she smiled at Ichigo.

"I'm sorry I missed dinner, I lost track of time. I couldn't get him to sleep so I brought him with me. I hope you don't mind." She lowered a corner of the coverlet to reveal an eight-month old baby boy, looking wide-awake and alert. Shifting the infant to her shoulder, she pulled down the coverlet so his head was exposed to the night air. A swirl of auburn hair crowned his little head and when he turned to look at Ichigo, his eyes surveyed him with a kind of bright interest.

"Hi Reizei." Ichigo's finger reached out to gently tickle underneath the baby's chin.

"Has it started?"

"No, not yet. You just made it." Ichigo grinned. "Did you eat? I think there's still food inside if you're hungry. Er…you didn't cook anything for dinner, right?" He asked, cringing at what kind of monstrosity he would be forced to eat tomorrow morning.

The baby gurgled and twisting away from Orihime, he held his tiny arm out.

"Ah, no, I didn't have time." Orihime said as she handed the baby to Ichigo. "But I can make something when we get home!" She brightened.

"No, that's okay." Ichigo automatically answered before she could say anymore. "I don't want you exhausting yourself. Rukia actually packed up some leftovers for us to take back and I think we'll be good for a few days."

Cradling the baby's head, Ichigo carefully placed Reizei on his shoulder and together, he and Orihime went out to the gardens.

"Oh, there's Rukia and Renji!" Orihime excitedly waved to them then faltered, looking utterly confused.

"What is it?" Ichigo asked.

"I don't know why but Renji looks...disoriented." Orihime turned to him. "Did something happen to him?"

"No idea." Ichigo blithely answered, still savoring the moment he had kicked Renji's ass.

After some searching, they found a clean patch of grass on a slope and situated themselves. Once they sat down, Ichigo cradled the baby into his lap as Orihime nestled a second coverlet over his legs. They raised their heads to the sky in expectation.

Then suddenly the torches dimmed and in the distance, a precarious beat of taiko drums was heard. One note. Two notes. Then another and another, and at Byakuya's signal, the beats steadily increased to a faster tempo. The drums thundered onward and just as they hit a crescendo, a piercing sound broke through the night.

A giant peony shell burst into appearance, sending violet and blue sparkles after its wake. The crowd roared and cheered in delight. Soon a succession of dahlia fireworks followed, bringing one bright explosion after the other in wondrous colors of red, green, blue, gold, orange, and white.

"Oh…!" Orihime looked thrilled as a trio of silver shooting stars rocketed up into the darkness and went off in a loud bang, expanding into glittering golden sparks that showered down to the earth below. The baby cooed and waved his fat fists at the sky.

Giant dragons outlined in red and orange sparks roared into life, enthralling the crowd, as it floated through the smoke clouds and shot even more fireworks out of its mouth. Shimmering phoenixes soared high, trailing behind flashing green and gold stars that made sizzling and crackling noises. White-hot sparklers whizzed among the starry pandemonium, colliding with each other in a bang. All the while, a hundred gold fireworks shot up and exploded all at once, igniting the sky.

"My, my, how pretty the dragons are! Aren't they, Hitsugaya-taichou?" Ichigo could hear Matsumoto saying. He glanced to his left and sure enough, there she was, just a few feet from where he and Orihime sat.

"They're okay." Hitsugaya said, looking quite indifferent.

"Oh don't be jealous! Hyorinmaru is beautiful too!" Without warning, Matsumoto threw her arms around Hitsugaya, pressing his face deep into her buxom chest.

Smirking, Ichigo turned his attention to the baby who was sporadically tapping his knees with his little hands. Quietly he bent down and kissed the back of Reizei's head. Then reaching over, he pulled Orihime closer to him so she could lean her head against the crook of his neck.

As the fireworks continued to rain down colorful sparkles of light, some of the guests quietly nodded to the couple on the hill and began whispering amongst themselves.

"Is that really them?"

"Over there, look."

"That's them all right. That's Kurosaki-taichou and his wife."

"_Kurosaki?_ You mean the ones who…?"

"Oh, is that really her? I can't believe it."

"…unimaginable, what they came back from…"

"Do you think they're happy?"

They all gazed out to the pair, silently wondering. How could that remarkable captain and lady just sit there with the rest as though they were an ordinary couple? Were they not aware of the enormity of the trials they went through? How could they not be fazed at their accomplishments at entering Heaven itself and coming back from Hell unscathed?

But Ichigo ignored them and instead concentrated on where he was now, who he was with. There was Rukia and Renji with their daughters while Byakuya watched over the happily family in quiet content. Ukitake and Unohana-sotaichou were just across, clasping hands. Matsumoto was laughing heartily at Hitsugaya's sheepish expression. Izuru, Hisagi, and the rest of the squads were scattered about, clapping and whooping at the fantastic display above them. All gathered together in the splendor of Sereitei, a part of an ever-wide fellowship based on friendship, loyalty, and love.

Not all were here, Ichigo knew that. But someday, when the time was right, he was certain that Sado, Ishida, Yuzu, Karin, Tatsuki and all those he had left behind would be reunited with him. The separation had been painful. There was no denying in that. And yet, he hoped they understood because for him, going back without Orihime had not been a matter of choice.

It had been a matter of the heart.

At the thought, Ichigo turned to Orihime and pressed his lips against her forehead. Then gathering their son into their embrace, he gazed at the glittering fireworks and seeing a glimpse of the weaver star hung high in the heavens, a smile crept to his face as he returned the sentiment that Heaven's princess had given him so very long ago.

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_But already my desire and my will_

_ were being turned like a wheel, all at one speed,_

_ by the Love which moves the sun and stars._

_A source unknown that grows ever deeper, _

_From which the living may die of it,_

_And by its power, the dead may live again._


End file.
